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MRS.    FLORENCE    (MOTHER)    ROBERTS. 


FIFTEEN  YEARS 

WITH  THE  OUTCAST 


By 
MRS.  FLORENCE  (MOTHER)  ROBERTS 


GOSPEL  TRUMPET  COMPANY 
Anderson,  Indiana  U.   S.  A. 


Copyrigrht,   1912, 

by 

Mrs.  Florence  Roberts. 


PREFACE. 

A  missionary^  upon  returning  from  his  field  of 
labor  in  India,  was  making  an  effort  to  stir  up 
the  sympathies  of  the  people  in  behalf  of  the 
heathen.  By  telling  his  countrymen  of  the  in- 
fluence of  the  gospel  upon  the  Indians  and  of  the 
hundreds,  even  thousands,  of  them  who  had  be- 
come Christians,  he  succeeded  in  creating  an  in- 
terest among  many  of  his  friends.  He  told  many 
stirring  experiences  of  the  difficulties  encountered 
in  the  missionary  work,  and  gave  affecting  ac- 
counts of  the  persecution  of  the  native  Christians 
because  of  their  turning  from  their  idolatry  and 
former  beliefs. 

A  noted  English  hunter  had  just  returned  from 
a  hunting  tour  in  Bengal.  These  two  men  were 
invited  to  speak  at  a  certain  assembly.  The  large 
audience  listened  attentively  to  thrilling  experi- 
ences of  the  hunter  as  he  related  the  hairbreadth 
escapes  in  the  jungles  and  told  of  the  many  Ben- 
gal tigers  seen  and  killed.  After  he  had  finished 
his  account  of  his  hunting  tour,  he  was  asked  to 
give  a  report  of  the  missionary  work  as  he  had 
found  it  in  India.  He  stated  that  in  all  his  travels 
in  Bengal  he  had  not  seen  a  native  Christian 
and,  further,  that  he  did  not  believe  there  were 


4  PREFACE. 

any,  but  that  there  were  plenty  of  tigers.  He 
said  that  he  had  not  seen  a  missionary  on  the  field 
and  that  the  missionaries  were  deceiving  the  peo- 
ple by  their  reports. 

The   missionary   was   stung   to   the   heart.      He 
knew  that  the  people  were   almost  ready  to  cast 
him  down  in  derision  because  of  the  powerful  in- 
fluence   this    noted    hunter    had    exerted    over    the 
audience.     When  he  arose,  trusting  the  Lord  for 
wisdom  that  he  might  be  able  to  convince  his  hear- 
ers  of   the    real   situation   of   missionary   work    in 
India,   he   kindly    referred    to    the    statements    of 
the  eminent  hunter  and  said:  "He  has  related  his 
exciting  experiences  in  tiger-hunting  and  has  told 
you   that   tigers    abound    in    that   country.      Why 
should  I  believe  his  word?    Though  I  spent  several 
years  in  Bengal,  yet  I  never  saw  a  tiger  outside 
of  a  cage  nor  any  one  hunting  tigers.      He   says 
he  did  not  see  a  native  Christian  or  a  missionary 
on  the  field.     I  have  seen  hundreds  of  them,  have 
lived  among  them,  have  taught  them,  and   I   am 
able  to  verify  my  statements.      Shall   I   discredit 
the   statements   of   the   hunter   because    I    saw   no 
tigers?     I   was   not  looking   for  tigers;   therefore 
I  did  not  go  to  the  jungles  to  find  them.     He  was 
not  looking   for   Christians   and   missionaries,   and 
for  that  reason  he  did  not  go  to  the  plains  where 
they  were  to  be  found."     The  words  of  the  mis- 


PREFACE.  5 

sionary  had  the  desired  effect,  and  the  cause  that 
he  represented  was  sustained. 

It  has  often  been  said  that  the  world  is  growing 
better  and  that  the  places  of  vice  are  few;  but  if 
the  veil  is  drawn  aside  only  enough  to  give  a 
glimpse  of  the  pitfalls  of  darkness  and  sin,  one  is 
made  to  stand  aghast  and  lift  the  hands  in  horror. 
How  little  is  known  of  the  next-door  neighbor !  In 
our  cities  many  people  do  not  even  know  the  names 
or  the  occupations  of  those  living  in  the  next  room 
or  in  some  other  apartment  of  the  same  house.  Oft- 
times  dens  of  vice  are  almost  at  our  door,  and  we 
know  nothing  of  their  existence  until  we  are  awak- 
ened by  some  sad  occurrence  that  might  have  been 
avoided  "had  we  known." 

Many  parents  fear  to  inform  their  children  of 
the  evils  of  the  world  and  of  the  dives  and  pitfalls 
of  vice.  This  false  modesty,  or  failure  to  impart 
knowledge,  places  children  face  to  face  with  danger 
without  their  suspecting  any  harm. 

There  are  gambling-dens,  houses  of  ill-fame, 
and  various  other  places  of  vice,  where  young  and 
old  are  led  astray.  The  "white  slave  traders" — • 
those  who  decoy  and  sell  girls  and  young  women 
for  such  places — ^are  ever  on  the  alert. 

The  author  of  this  book  has  spent  years  in  try- 
ing to  rescue  girls  from  such  a  life,  and  "Fifteen 
Years  with  the  Outcast"  will  undoubtedly  do  much 


6  PREFACE. 

to  counteract  the  influence  of  these  places  of  vice 
and  infamy. 

Fathers  and  mothers  should  place  this  voliune  in 
the  hands  of  their  children  and  should  encourage 
them  to  become  sufficiently  informed  concerning 
such  things  not  only  to  protect  themselves  but  also 
to  warn  others. 

With  a  desire  that  the  influence  of  this  book 
may  reach  the  highest  anticipations  of  the  author, 
I  am 

Yours  in  Hdm, 

E.  E.  Byrum. 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTEB  I. 
Little  Bosa— A  Warning  to  Mothers  and  Guardians —  29 

CHAPTER  II. 
A  Visit  to  Sacramento— The  Outcome 37 

CHAPTER    III. 
M7  First  Autoharp— I  Forsake  All  to  Follow  Jesus....  43 

CHAPTER    IV. 
I  am  Introduced  to  the  Rescue  Home  Family— A 

Glorious  Test 49 

CHAPTER    V. 
A  Crushing  Situation— "Wonderful  Vision— Story  of 

Rita   55 

CHAPTER    VI. 
My  First  Call  to  the  Prison  Work 61 

CHAPTER   VII. 
Leila    67 

CHAPTEB    Vm. 
I  Bid  Farewell  to  the  Sacramento  Home 75 

CHAPTER    IX. 
Woodland   (Continued)— A  Boycott 88 

CHAPTEB    X. 
A  Brief  Call  to  Sacramento— I  Enter  the  San  Fran- 
cisco   Field 91 

CHAPTEB    XI. 
I  am  Introduced  to  the  Dives  of  Barbary  Coast 97 

CHAPTEB  XII. 
Mary   — Ul 

CHAPTEB   Xm. 
Services  in  County  Jail,  Branch  No.  3 „ 126 


8  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTEB   XIV. 

Lucy — A    Remarkable    Experience 135 

CHAPTER    XV. 

We  Plan  for  a  Home  for  Released  Prison  Girls 147 

CHAPTER   XVI. 

Santa  Clara  Experiences 157 

CHAPTER   XVII. 

Callie's  Wonderful  Story 163 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
Callie  and  I  Visit  the  Jail,  the  Morphine  Den,  and 

the    Mission 175 

CHAPTER   XIX. 
Still  Southward  Bound — Santa  Cruz — Lucy  Returns 

to  Her  Home 187 

CHAPTER    XX. 

Joe's    Story. 195 

CHAPTER    XXI. 
I  Depart  for  Pacific  Grove— Meet  Lucy  Again— Her 

Baptism  205 

CHAPTER   XXTT. 

Anna— We  Leave  for  San  Jose 211 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Northward  Bound— The  Outcome 223 

CHAPTER   XXIV. 

The  Suicide  of  L .—Its  After-effect 231 

CHAPTER   XXV. 

Gk)od  News  from  Home— Miss  Loraine 241 

CHAPTER    XXVI. 

Lucy's  Letter— The  School  Teacher 249 

CHAPTER    XXVII. 
San  Quentin— We  Secure  a  Lovely  Property 259 


CONTENTS.  9 

CHAPTEB    XXVIII. 
God's  Best 267 

CHAPTER    XXIX. 
Dedication   of   Beth-Adriel „ 273 

CHAPTER    XXX. 
The  Juvenile  Court  Commission — Henry 281 

CHAPTER    XXXI. 
The   Annual   Board   Meeting— Dollie's   Story 289 

CHAPTER    XXXTT. 
Lost     Sheep — The     Ex-prisoners'     Home — Hospital 

Scenes    „ 297 

CHAPTER.  XXXIII. 
A  Wonderful  Leading— How  Girls  Are  Lured  to  the 

Dance-halls     . 305 

CHAPTER    XXXrV. 

The   Women    of    B up    in    Arms— The    Sisters 

Taken  Home. 321 

CHAPTER    XXXV. 
Santa    Cruz— Reba's   Letter— The    Earthquake. _...327 

CHAPTER    XXXVI. 
Belief  Duty— San  i^rancisco— Miss  B 335 

CHAPTER    XXXVIl. 
The  Home  Repaired— Mrs.  S 's  Experience 343 

CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 
The  Annual  Board   Meeting — Results 351 

CHAPTEB  yyxTir 

A  Trip  East— I  Escape  from  a  Confidence  Woman....363 

CHAPTER    XL. 
My    Homeward    Journey — Land    for    the    Training 

School  and  Home. „ 369 


10  CX)NTENTS. 

CHAPTER   XLI. 
I  Call  on  the  Governor  and  Then  Go  South 377 

CHAPTER   XLII. 
Los  Angeles  Dance-halls  and  Other  Places 393 

CHAPTER  XLIII. 
yeoman  Employed  at  Dance-hall  Tells  of  Many  Pit- 
falls    401 

CHAPTER   XLIV. 
Sarah  409 

CHAPTER   XLV. 
The  Women  Prisoners  of  San  Quentin 415 

CHAPTER  XLVI. 
Vallejo,  Mare  Island,  and  Alcatraz 421 

CHAPTER  XLVII. 
Irene's  Awful  Fate— The  Wages  of  Sin 429 

CHAPTER  XLVIII. 
My  Return  to  the  Missionary  Field 427 

CHAPTER  XLIX. 
Some  Precious  Letters  from  Precious  Children 453 

CHAPTER   L. 
Conclusion    ,, 465 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Florence    (Mother)    Roberts Frontispiece 

The  Dive-keeper's   Daughter 107 

Mary    121 

The  Eedwood  City  Street  Meeting 155 

Scene  in  a  Morphine  Den 169 

"99  years,  Mother  Eoberts!"    Poor  Joe! 197 

View  of  Yard  and  Prisoners'  Quarters,  Bepresa,  near 

Folsom     „ 203 

Bird's  Eye  View  of  San  Quentin 261 

"Everybody  helped  grease   the  hill   I   was   sliding 

down.     I  soon  reached  the  bottom" 290 

Poor  Elsie! 303 

Scene  in  a  Dive  Dance-hall 307 

The  Chittenden  Home 375 

Some  Mother's  Wandering  Girl 389 

San  Quentin.    Prison  Yard 414 

View  of  Warden's  House,  etc.,  Bepresa. 430 


LIST  OF  SONGS. 

Words  and  Music  by  Mother  Koberts. 

The  Messengers  (the  Doves) 77 

Her  Voice. 101 

StiU   Nearer 128 

Was  It  You  » 137 

The  Songs  My  Mother  Sang 182 

The  Value  of  a  Song 221 

Some  Mother's  Wandering  Girl 380 


INTRODUCTION. 

BEPI^TIXrO    TO    TOXm    Q-0ESTZOV. 

"How  did  it  happen  that  you  became  so  deeply 
interested  in  rescue  work,  Mrs.  Roberts?" 

Hundreds  of  times  has  this  question  been  asked 
of  me  in  various  parts  of  this  State  (California). 
In  order,  whenever  time  and  place  permitted,  to 
answer  intelligently,  I  have  replied  by  relating  the 
story  of  my  conversion,  through  a  vision,  which 
occurred  on  the  afternoon  of  Sunday,  Sept.  IS, 
1896. 

For  some  time  prior  to  this,  with  my  husband, 
J.  H.  Roberts,  a  mining  man,  also  my  son,  an 
only  child  of  fourteen,  I  had  been  living  about 
two  and  one-half  miles  from  Angels,  Calaveras 
County,  California. 

For  lack  of  means  to  carry  on  the  development 
work  of  the  mine  which  Mr.  Roberts  was  at  this 
time  superintending,  it  closed.  In  order  to  in- 
crease finances  in  our  hour  of  need,  I  gave  piano 
lessons.  My  health,  never  in  those  days  very  ro- 
bust, soon  succumbed  to  the  severe  nervous  strain 
to  which  it  was  now  continually  subjected. 

THa  "Vision. 

On  the  never-to-be-forgotten  date  of  my  spir- 
itual birth,  whilst  I  was  enjoying  a  much-needed 
rest  and  reading  a  novel,  everything  in  the  room 


16  INTRODUCTION. 

seemed  suddenly  to  be  obliterated  from  my  view;  I 
became  oblivious  of  my  surroundings  and  was  ap- 
parently floating  in  an  endless  vista  of  soft,  beau- 
tiful, restful  light. 

I  was  quite  conscious  of  rising  to  a  sitting  posi- 
tion, pressing  my  left  elbow  into  the  pillow,  and 
with  the  right  hand  rubbing  both  eyes  in  an  en- 
deavor to  see  once  more  my  natural  surroundings. 
But  no!  Instead,  suspended  in  this  endless  light, 
appeared  a  wonderful  colossal  cross  of  indescrib- 
able splendor.  This  wonderful  cross  can  be  lik- 
ened only  to  a  gigantic  opal.  Its  rays  of  light 
seemed  to  penetrate  me  through  and  through  as 
over  my  mind  flashed  the  thought,  "I  must  have 
died,  and  this  is  my  soul!" 

For  one  brief  moment  I  closed  my  eyes,  then 
opened  them,  and  now,  in  addition  to  the  vision 
of  the  cross,  came  an  added  one  of  such  a  glorious 
Being  that  words  are  utterly  inadequate  to  de- 
scribe him.  No  writer,  be  he  ever  so  skilful,  could 
give  a  satisfactory  word-picture,  and  no  artist,  be 
he  ever  so  spiritual,  could  possibly  depict  the  won- 
derful majesty  of  our  glorious,  loving,  royal  Re- 
deemer. 

His  left  arm  slowly  raised.  Presently  his  hand 
rested  on  the  right  arm  of  the  cross.  Then  the 
wonderful  eyes  looked  into  mine.  That  one  com- 
pelling look  drew  me — forever — to  him.     But  that 


INTRODUCTION.  17 

was  not  all.  With  the  right  hand  he  beckoned, 
reaching  downward  toward  me,  and  I  saw  the  sweet 
smiling  lips  move.  Though  no  sound  emanated 
from  them,  yet  I  knew  they  framed  the  one  word 
"Come !"  whilst  the  hand  slowly,  gracefully  moved, 
pointing  upward  toward  the  cross.  A  ray  of  light 
revealed  a  healed  wound  extending  the  entire 
length  of  the  palm.  Soon  this  invitation  was  re- 
peated, and  so  great  became  my  desire  to  hide 
(because  of  my  unworthiness)  beneath  the  cross 
that  I  must  at  this  time  have  slipped  off  the 
bed,  for  when  once  more  conscious  of  my  natural 
surroundings  I  discovered  myself  kneeling  on  the 
floor. 

Then  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  saw  myself 
as  I  believe  God  sees.  What  a  revelation  of 
selfishness  and  carnality!  What  a  realization  of 
utter  unworthiness!  My  righteousness  was  indeed 
and  in  truth  no  better  than  "filthy  rags"  (Isa. 
64:«). 

Could  God,  ivould  God,  forgive? 

Mentally  I  decided  that,  had  I  been  in  his  place, 
lavishing  and  bestowing  innumerable  and  untold 
blessings  day  after  day  upon  one  so  careless,  so 
heedless  of  his  wonderful  love,  I  should  find  it 
very,  very  difficult,  nay,  impossible. 

Oh,  how  I  now  longed,  now  yearned,  to  be  dif- 
ferent, as  I  caught  the  reflection  of  carnal  nature 


18  INTRODUCTION. 

in  the  spiritual  looking-glass!  With  all  my  soul 
I  implored  mercy  and  pardon. 

Suddenly  thick  darkness,  indescribably  thick, 
seemed  to  submerge  me.  I  felt  as  though  I  were 
smothering.  I  tried  to  find  my  voice.  Presently 
consciousness  returned,  and  the  room  appeared  as 
natural  as  ever.  I  was  crying  aloud,  "Save  me!" 
At  the  same  time  it  seemed  that  something  weighty 
was  rolling  up  like  a  scroll  off  either  side  of  me. 
I  felt  free,  light  as  air,  and  from  that  moment  be- 
gan to  experience  the  New  Life,  the  True  Life. 
Oh,  I  was  happy!     So  happy! 

One,  only  one,  desire  now  had  possession — that 
I  might  forever  remain  under  this  benign  influ- 
ence. Did  ever  the  birds  chirp  so  sweetly !  Was 
ever  parched  nature  or  dried-up  grass  more  beau- 
tiful! Oh,  why  did  I  have  to  come  back  to  this 
world !  But  how  selfish !  Now  came  the  longing 
to  share  my  joy  with  others;  I  was  eager  to  do  so. 
Would  my  husband's  visitor  never  go.''  Finally 
I  heard  him  making  his  adieus.  Bathing  my  face 
and  smoothing  my  hair,  I  went  forth  to  impart  the 
glorious  news  to  Mr.   Roberts. 

Well,  he  listened  attentively,  as  with  soul  filled 
and  thrilled  with  divine  love,  I  endeavored  to  de- 
scribe my  wonderful  vision. 

"What  do  you  think  of  it,  dear.''"  I  asked. 

"I  think  you  were  dreaming,"  he  replied. 


INTRODUCTION.  10 

"Oh,  but  not  so!  I  heard  you  talking  to  Mr. 
Rouse  from  the  time  he  came,  though  I  was  pay- 
ing no  attention  to  your  conversation.  How  could 
I.''"  I  inquired. 

"Nevertheless,  my  dear,  it  was  only  a  dream," 
he  insisted. 

Something  (an  inner  voice  hitherto  unrecog- 
nized) suggested  that  I  ask  what  he  thought  of  it, 
even  though  it  might  be  but  a  dream.  He  ad- 
mitted that  it  was  wonderful  and  beautiful.  (Af- 
terwards he  told  me  that  he  would  not  have  paid 
so  much  attention  to  my  recital  had  it  not  been  for 
the  unusual  light  on  my  countenance.  "You  can't 
think  how  you  looked,"  he  said.  "Your  face  shone 
like  satin!") 

THE    AFTEBMATK. 

Immediately  following  this  God-given  experience 
came  the  desire  to  "search  the  Scriptures"  (John 
5:  39).  I  regret  having  to  tell  you  that  my  Bible 
lay  very  near  the  bottom  of  a  trunk  and  that 
the  blessed  volume  had  not  been  opened  for  a 
shamefully  long  time. 

It  took  me,  in  my  spare  time,  something  like 
three  months  to  read  the  book  carefully  from  cover 
to  cover.  Not  one  word  escaped  me.  I  found  it 
to  be  so  interesting — at  first  as  a  matter  of  history 
— that  I  began  it  all  over  again.  Thus  it  has 
been  ever  since;  for  to  the  Spirit-born  child  noth- 


so  INTRODUCTION. 

ing  will,  nothing  can,  take  the  place  of  the  Bible. 
It  is  always  new,  always  refreshing.  It  is  the 
voice  of  the  tenderest,  most  loving  of  parents,  ever 
ready  to  answer  our  questions,  comforting  when 
sorrowful,  healing  when  sick,  warning  when  in 
danger,  ever  directing,  admonishing,  and  encourag- 
ing under  any  and  all  circumstances.  "Oh!"  but 
you  say,  "the  chastening!  You  forget  that."  No, 
dear  one,  I  do  not.  All  wise  parents  chasten  their 
offspring.  Would  to  God  they  would  lovingly, 
wisely  administer  more  corrections  than  they  do. 
The  outcome,  I  verily  believe,  would  be  a  wonder- 
ful foretaste  of  heaven  on  earth.  But  I  find  I  am 
digressing. 

Immediately  following  my  conversion  came  the 
desire  to  impart  the  knowledge  received,  to  my 
friends  and  neighbors.  The  result  was  that  a  re- 
port somewhat  like  the  following  was  soon  circu- 
lated: "Poor  Mrs.  Roberts!  Have  you  heard  the 
news?  Her  husband's  financial  losses  have  af- 
fected her  mind;  she  is  going  crazy.  Thinks  she 
had  a  vision!"  etc.  Then  I  began  to  realize  what 
it  means  literally  to  "forsake  all  to  follow  Christ." 
Heavier  troubles  followed,  but  they  did  not  affect 
me  as  heretofore.  I  had  had  the  vision,  and  it  had 
come  to  stay. 

Illness  presently  brought  me  to  the  very  thresh- 
old of  eternity.     With  animation  temporarily  sus- 


INTRODUCTION.  tl 

pcnded,  but  my  soul  and  brain  never  more  keenly 
alive,  I  mentally  implored  the  dear  Lord  to  spare 
me  for  a  little  while,  because  I  did  not  now  want 
to  come  to  him  empty-handed.  Oh!  the  longing 
to  win  souls,  as  I  lay  there  helpless  yet  realizing 
what  it  might  mean  to  be  forever  debarred  from 
the  things  which  God  had  prepared  from  the  foun- 
dation of  the  world  "for  him  that  waiteth  for  Him" 
(Isa.  64:4).  How  eager  I  was  to  tell  the  news 
to  any  one,  no  matter  to  what  depths  he  or  she 
might  have  fallen!  It  was  the  immortal  soul  that 
I  was  now  anxious  to  reach.  Lying  there,  I  made 
an  absolute  consecration,  promising  my  heavenly 
Father  that  if  he  would  restore  me  to  health  and 
strength,  I  would  go  to  whatever  place  he  thought 
fit  to  send  me,  and  never  hesitate  to  stoop  to  the 
lowliest  for  his  sake  and  theirs. 

BESTOBATXON. 

God  takes  us  at  our  word.  I  wonder  how  many 
of  us  realize  this.'' 

Returning  health  and  strength  found  me  located 
with  my  family  in  Redding,  Shasta  County.  Here 
my  husband  and  I,  in  the  spring  of  1897,  followed 
our  Lord's  example  in  baptism. 

In  Redding  came  many  delightful  opportunities 
to  engage  in  church  and  personal  work  for  the  Mas-  r, 

ter.     While  I  was  visiting  in  Sacramento  in  the  |i 


22  INTRODUCTION. 

fall  of  1897  and  attending  revival  meetings  eon- 
ducted  in  the  First  Baptist  church,  came  my  first 
real  knowledge  of  the  unfortunate  of  my  sex. 

Previous  to  this  revival  the  Rev.  Mr.  Banks, 
now  deceased,  anxious  for  these  special  services  to 
be  well  attended,  asked  for  volunteers  from  his 
flock  to  distribute  in  every  house  in  their  immedi- 
ate neighborhoods  a  printed  invitation.  Whoever 
undertook  this  work  was  to  pledge  themselves  not 
to  pass  one  house  nor  miss  any  opportunity  for 
personal  work.  Not  two  blocks  from  the  place 
where  I  was  rooming  was  a  district  that  I  hitherto 
had  never  explored  — ■  in  fact,  had  purposely 
avoided.  God  now  gave  me  strength  to  take  up 
this  cross,  for  which  may  I  be  forever  humbly 
grateful.  But  I  shrank  at  first;  for,  unable  to  per- 
suade any  of  my  acquaintances  to  accompany  me, 
I  had  to  traverse  this  neighborhood  alone.  Did 
I  say  alone?  Never  did  I  experience  a  greater 
sense  of  guardianship,  of  protection,  of  being  in 
the  best  of  company,  though  these  guardians  and 
companions  were  visible  only  to  the  eye  of  faith 
(Psa.   91:  10-12). 

That  day  I  saw  tears  fall,  and  heard  experi- 
ences of  which  I  had  hitherto  had  scarcely  any 
conception. 

Touched  by  a  loving  hand,  wakened  by  kindness. 
Chords   that   were   broken    will    vibrate   once   more. 


INTRODUCTION.  28 

Soon  after  this  the  first  little  jescue  home  for 
girls  in  Sacramento  was  started  by  some  conse- 
crated young  people.  It  was  located  on  Second 
Street  near  O.  I  did  not  have  the  pleasure  of  at- 
tending the  opening  of  this  "shelter,"  because  of 
a  direct  call  to  service  about  this  time  with  some 
traveling  evangelists.  I  assisted  them  by  giving 
out  the  "good  news"  in  song. 

Wbile  I  was  traveling  northward  with  these 
evangelists,  there  came  into  my  possession,  in  an- 
swer to  prayer,  my  treasured,  God-given  little 
autoharp.  No.  1.  My  second  was  at  one  time  the 
property  of  a  now  pardoned  State  prisoner — his 
companion  in  his  lonely  hours  when  locked  in  his 
cell.  » 

"Where  were  your  husband  and  your  son  all  this 
time?"  you  inquire.  The  former  was  away  pros- 
pecting— 'his  favorite  occupation.  The  latter,  be- 
cause of  his  love  for  the  water  and  his  desire  to 
see  other  countries,  was  an  employee  on  an  ocean- 
steamer. 

arr   sfzbztvai;   moteeb. 

On  Sept.  1,  1902,  there  passed  into  eternal  rest 
one  of  the  oldest  members  of  the  First  Methodist 
Episcopal  church  of  San  Francisco,  Mrs.  Salemma 
Williams. 

For  more  than  twenty  years  this  dear  sainted 
friend,  though   I   knew  it  not,  daily  prayed  and 


S4  INTRODUCTION. 

believed  for  my  conversion.  Five  years  before 
she  was  made  aware  of  the  fact,  her  prayer  had 
been  answered.  Her  joy,  when  one  day  I  called 
upon  her  to  impart  the  welcome  news,  knew  no 
bounds,  and  until  she  passed  away  we  spent  many 
happy  days  in  each  other's  company.  A  few  hours 
before  she  went  home,  she  gave  her  children  and 
me  her  parting  blessings.  The  precious  prayer 
of  this  dying  saint  as  she  held  her  aged  hands  on 
my  head  comforts,  sustains,  and  encourages  me 
now,  even  as  it  did  then,  and  I  believe  that  it 
ever  will. 

HEB     BIiESSINO. 

"Lord,  I  thank  thee  for  answered  prayer.  Make 
this,  thy  child,  wonderful  for  thee.  Lord,  wonder- 
ful for  thee!  for  Jesus'  sake.  Amen."  Though 
she  spoke  with  great  difficulty,  yet  every  word  was 
distinctly  audible.  About  two  hours  later  she 
sang  (with  me)  the  following  lines  as  she  passed 
into  eternal  rest: 

Oh!  if  there's  only  one  song  I  can  sing- 
When  in  his  beauty  I  see  the  great  King, 
This  shall  my  song  in  eternity  be: 
Oh,  what  a  wonder  that  Jesus  loves  me! 
I  am  so  glad  that  Jesus  loves  me! 
Jesus    loves   even   me. 

STTMMABT. 

Would  that  it  were  in  my  power  to  relate  bet- 
ter,   in    "Fifteen    Years    with   the    Outcast,"    the 


INTRODUCTION.  95 

few  incidents  of  the  many  which  have  come  under 
my  personal  observation.  The  real  names  of  the 
principals  of  the  stories  are  withheld,  but  not  so 
the  names  of  personal   friends. 

Dear  readers,  I  am  well  aware  that  this  book, 
judged  from  a  literary  point  of  view,  would  be 
regarded  as  a  failure ;  but  I  make  no  pretensions  as 
a  writer,  nor  do  I  entertain  any  aspirations  for 
literary  fame.  My  sole  object  in  endeavoring  to 
present  faithfully  a  few  experiences  of  my  brief 
years  of  service  for  the  Master  is  to  warn  many 
who  are  in  danger. 

Interspersed  between  these  covers  are  a  few 
songs,  the  words  of  which,  with  scarcely  an  ex- 
ception, were  written  in  the  night,  and,  for  the 
most  part,  were  culled  from  incidents  of  personal 
observation  and  experience.  Much  valuable  as- 
sistance has  been  rendered  by  a  dear  friend  in 
the  transcribing  and  arranging  of  the  music. 

For  those  of  my  readers  who  do  not  yet  know 
the  dear  Lord  as  their  personal  Savior  and  Re- 
deemer, my  sincere  prayer  is.  May  they  while 
perusing  these  pages  catch  a  glimpse  of  Him.  May 
they,  by  faith,  "wash  and  be  made  clean,"  deter- 
mining, God  helping,  to  shun  forever  all  evil  and 
evil  companions.     The  sinful  life  never  pays. 

In  order  to  make  this  book  suitable  for  young  peo- 
ple to  read,  much  concerning  rescue  work  has  been 


26  INTRODUCTION. 

withheld.  Parents  will  readily  understand  why 
and  will  appreciate  the  omission.  Doubtless  they 
will  have  little  if  any  trouble  in  reading  between 
the  lines.  God  grant  them  love  and  wisdom  to 
interpret  to  their  questioning  boys  and  girls,  and 
may  countless  blessings  from  the  Shepherd  of  our 
souls  attend  all  into  whose  hands  this  book  may 
chance  to  come. 

Yours,  in  precious  service  for  Him, 

(Mts.)  Florence  Roberts. 

P.  S.  Since  the  above  was  written,  I  had  the 
occasion  to  visit  one  of  our  California  State  prisons 
(San  Quentin).  I  went  at  the  urgent  request  of 
a  young  man  whom  the  officials  recommended  for 
parole.  I  had  a  portion  of  the  manuscript  of  this 
book  with  me,  which  the  captain  of  the  guard,  at 
my  request,  kindly  allowed  the  young  man  and  his 
cell-mates  to  read.  In  consequence,  we  are  in- 
debted to  one  of  these  dear  boys  (God  bless  him !) 
for  some  of  the  illustrations  appearing  in  this 
book.  Others  have  been  contributed  by  a  young 
brother  and  sister  who  are  devoting  their  lives 
to  God's  service  at  the  Gospel  Trumpet  office. 


EXPLANATORY. 

This  book  was  originally  prepared  for  the  press 
xinder  the  title,  "The  Autobiography  of  an  Auto- 
harp."  It  was  then  written  in  verse  and  liberally 
interspered  with  foot-notes.  Upon  more  mature 
consideration  and  also  upon  the  advice  of  one  of 
much  experience  as  a  writer,  I  have  rewritten  the 
work  and  given  it  the  title,  "Fifteen  Years  with  the 
Outcast." 

Although  the  change  necessitates  a  continuous 
repetition  of  the  personal  pronoun  "I,"  a  word 
whose  avoidance  was  the  primary  object  in  writ- 
ing under  the  original  title,  yet  the  new  form  is, 
I  believe,  much  more  interesting.  Furthermore, 
time  and  experience  have  occasioned  many  need- 
ful additions. 

For  fifteen  years  "I  have  fought  a  good  fight," 
though  not  so  good  as  I  would  have  desired,  and 
although  I  am  in  the  evening  of  4ife,  I  realize  that 
I  have  not  yet  "finished  my  course."  There  is 
still  much  more  for  me  to  do  in  this  sorrowful, 
sin-cursed  world.  God  has,  among  other  bless- 
ings, given  me  a  strong  physique.  By  his  un- 
merited power  I  am  keeping  the  faith,  growing  in 
grace  and  in  the  knowledge  of  our  Lord  and  Sav- 
ior Jesus  Christ. 


36  EXPLANATORY. 

My  greatest  longing  and  ambition  is  some  d&y 
to  see  Him  whom  my  soul  loveth,  "face  to  face,' 
especially  to  have  the  joy  of  bringing  some  price- 
less trophies  to  lay  at  His  blessed  feet. 
Most  sincerely  yours, 

Florence  (Mother)  Roberts. 
Gospel  Trumpet  Company, 
Anderson,   Indiana. 

September  27,  1911. 


FIFTEEN   YEARS 

WITH  THE   OUTCAST 


CHAPTER  I. 

LITTLE      ROSA — A      WARNING     TO      MOTHERS 
AND    GUARDIANS. 

What  I  am  about  to  relate  is  my  first  experi- 
ence in  rescuing  a  girl  and  occurred  not  long  after 
my  conversion. 

At  this  time  my  husband,  my  son,  and  I  were 
living  in  Redding  Shasta  Co.,  Cal.  In  the  house 
that  we  were  occupying  lived  another  family  also, 
the  little  four-year-old  daughter  of  which  was  an 
especial  pet  of  mine.  While  she  was  acting  naught- 
ily one  day,  thus  hindering  her  mother  with  the 
household  duties,  I  bribed  her  to  be  good,  by  prom- 
ising to  go  down-town  for  some  particularly  nice 
candy  made  by  a  man  who  sold  it  every  day  at  a 
certain  street  corner,  displaying  it  on  a  tray  sus- 
pended from  his  neck  and  always  handling  it  with 
the  whitest  of  cotton  gloves.  When  I  reached  the 
place,  he  had  not  yet  arrived.  Desirous  of  not  dis- 
appointing my  little  friend  and  having  learned 
where  the  man  lived — in  a  tent  on  a  lot  near  by — 
I  immediately  repaired  to  the  place  designated. 
There  I  found  a  disreputable-looking  middle-aged 


80  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

woman  and  a  forlorn  little  girl  about  twelve  years 
old.     The  girl  was  in  tears. 

Upon  my  inquiring  what  was  the  matter,  the 
woman  immediately  berated  the  child  in  my  pres- 
ence. Turning  to  me,  she  said  that  this  girl  was 
one  on  whom  they  recently  had  taken  pity,  and 
had  hired  to  do  chores. 

As  there  was  but  one  tent,  I  questioned  also  as 
to  sleeping  accommodations.  It  contained  a  full- 
sized  bed  and  one  narrow  cot,  between  which  was 
suspended  a  thin  calico  curtain.  The  cooking, 
eating,  etc,  were  done  out  of  doors. 

The  poor  little  one  continued  to  cry  bitterly. 
With  aching  heart  I  laid  my  hand  on  her  bowed 
head  and  bade  her  to  be  a  good  girl  and  try  her 
best  to  please  and  obey  her  employers,  then  in- 
quired of  her  whether  she  had  ever  attended  Sun- 
day-school or  knew  anything  about  Jesus.  She 
did  not  reply.  This  caused  the  woman  to  accuse 
her  of  sulkiness,  at  which  the  girl  looked  up  with 
swollen  eyes,  full  of  tears.  Oh  that  look!  It 
astonished  and  puzzled  me  at  the  time.  Hatred.'' 
Yes,  and  despair,  and  misery,  and  yearning.  There 
was  a  volume  in  that  look,  which  I  could  not  then 
interpret.      Beyond   words,  it  troubled   me. 

Silently  praying,  I  went  on  my  way.  I  had 
walked  only  a  few  yards  toward  home,  when  I 
heard  the  quick  patter  of  bare  feet  behind  me,  and 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  81 

some  one  calling,  "Lady !  Lady !"  Turning,  I  saw 
the  little  girl  breathlessly  trying  to  overtake  me. 
Quickly  she  poured  into  my  ears  a  horrible  story 
of  wrong,  of  indescribable  wickedness  perpetrated 
on  her  for  the  vile  gratification  of  that  man — so 
celebrated  as  a  candy  maker. 

Soon  I  was  in  the  presence  of  Judge  Sweeney 
(now  superintendent  of  the  United  States  mint  in 
San  Francisco)  relating  the  awful  story  of  little 
Rosa.  Immediately  after  my  rehearsal  the  man 
and  woman  were  arrested. 

Previous  to  going  to  live  with  these  people  Rosa 
had  made  her  home  with  a  young  married  sister. 
The  sister  had  a  family  of  little  children  and  was 
poor;  so  when  an  opportunity  presented  itself  for 
an  apparently  good  home  for  Rosa  in  exchange  for 
light  services,  she  quickly,  gladly  availed  herself 
of  it,  without  making  the  very  necessary  inquiry 
as  to  who  this  man  and  woman  (strangers  in  Red- 
ding) were  or  whence  they  had  come.  Thus 
thoughtlessly  did  she  relieve  herself  of  a  solemn 
responsibility,  the  dying  request  of  their  mother, 
who  had  passed  away  when  Rosa  was  much 
younger. 

A  physical  examination  proved,  beyond  a  doubt, 
the  unfortunate  child's  condition,  and  the  law  pro- 
ceeded to  take  its  course.  The  sister  was  (tem- 
porarily)  made  responsible  as   Rosa's  legal  guar- 


3£  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

dian.     Here  I  quote  from  "The  Morning  Search- 
light" the  article  headed: 

A   SENSATIONAXi   CASE. 
A  little  Girl  Held  Captive  toy  G E 


A  petition  for  a  writ  of  habeas  corpus  was 
filed    in    the    Superior    Court    Saturday    by    Mrs. 

M S .     This  is  the  process  by  which   she 

hopes  to  obtain  possession  and  care  of  her  sis- 
ter, Rosa  L The  girl  is  but  twelve  years  of 

age,  her  mother  is  dead,  and  she  has  been  de- 
serted by  her  father. 

Somehow,     she    has    become    acquainted     with 

G B ,    the   street    candy-vender,    and   has, 

of  late,  been  living-  in  his  tent  in  the  south- 
eastern part  of  the  city. 

The  petition  further  states:  "That  as  your  pe- 
titioner is  informed  and  believes,  and  therefore 
alleges  the  fact  to  be,  that  said  restraint  of  said 
minor  by  said  E is  for  immoral  purposes." 

The  hearing  of  the  petition  will  take  place  be- 
fore   Judge    Sweeney    Monday    morning.      If    the 

points    alleged    in    the    petition    are    true,    E 

should   be  dealt   with   severely. 

The  trial  was  held  behind  closed  doors.  Poor 
little  Rosa  was  too  nervous  and  frightened  to  give 
her  testimony  with  sufficient  intelligence  so  that 
the  law  could  deal  with  the  couple  as  they  de- 
served. Through  some  technicality  they  escaped 
legal  punishment,  and  hurriedly  stole  out  of  Red- 
ding for  parts  unknown,  fearing  the  vengeance  of 
an  insulted,  righteously  indignant  community. 

The  child  was  soon  under  the  kindly  care  of  a 
consecrated    Christian   couple,    and   the   last   time 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  88 

we  saw  her  she  wore  a  smiling  and  happier  coun- 
tenance. This  dreadful  experience,  however,  per- 
manently wrecked  her  health,  so  that  she  could 
be  of  but  slight  service  to  her  new  guardians;  but 
they,  through  wise  and  loving  treatment,  through 
portraj'al  of  Jesus  in  word  as  well  as  in  deed, 
were  doing  all  they  could  do  for  this  little  shorn 
lamb,  doing  their  best  to  aid  in  helping  to  elimi- 
nate her  awful  past — a  task  by  no  means  easy. 
Poor  unfortunate,  sinned-against  little  Rosa !  Her 
life  forever  blighted  through  the  shifting  and  shirk- 
ing of  responsibility  on  the  part  of  the  older  sis- 
ter, who  had  promised  the  dying  mother  to  care- 
fully guard  and  guide  the  little  helpless  girl.  Poor 
ruined  child !  Shvmned,  whispered  about  and 
pointed  at  by  her  schoolmates,  she,  sensitive  girl 
that  she  was,  suffered  so  intensely  from  such  treat- 
ment that  it  was  deemed  advisable  to  have  her 
study,  as  best  she  could,  at  home.  There  she 
need  not  be  subjected  to  the  thoughtless  torture 
of  children,  who,  as  children  will,  had  undoubtedly 
listened  to,  and  learned  from,  the  conversations 
carelessly  carried  on  in  their  presence  by  parents 
and  other  older  people,  this  unfortunate  little 
girl's  cruel,  heart-rending  fate. 

Did  this  experience  affect  my  future  career.'' 
It  certainly  did.  Let  me  tell  you.  I  firmly  re- 
solved,  God   helping,   to   live   closer   to   the   Mas- 


3%  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

ter;  to  aid  in  rescuing  the  outcast  at  any  cost;  to 
see  and  love  their  souls,  forgetting  the  sinning  ex- 
terior; to  help  win  them  to  Christ,  then  encourage 
and  further  their  advancement;  constantly  to  sit 
so  low  at  the  Savior's  feet  as  to  be  ever  able  to 
discern  and  obey  his  still,  small  voice;  to  be  suffi- 
ciently strong  in  body,  soul,  and  spirit,  as  gladly 
to  respond  to  his  call  at  any  and  all  times,  whether 
that  call  should  be  in  the  highways  or  hedges, 
streets  or  lanes,  among  rich  or  poor,  the  prison 
boys  or  the  outcast  girls. 

Earnestly  I  prayed,  still  I  pray,  for  courage  to 
address  and  warn  parents  and  guardians  of  the 
pitfalls  concerning  which  I  have,  in  answer  to 
prayer,  increased  knowledge,  having  been  granted 
much  practical  experience,  sharing  many  a  sorrow 
with  others,  mingling  my  tears  and  sighs  with 
many  a  parent,  many  a  wanderer,  and  many  an 
outcast,  who  have  poured  their  troubles  into  my 
listening   ears. 

The  one  cry,  ever  and  always,  from  both  parent 
and  child,  has  been,  "//  /  had  only  known,  I 
should  have  been  less  heedless,  but  now  it's  too 
late,  too  late!  O  God!  forgive  me  for  Christ's 
sake."  Does  the  bird  with  the  broken  pinion  ever 
soar  as  high  again  ?  Only  through  Christ,  the  pre- 
cious  Redeemer  of  souls,  the  Great  Physician. 

Are  we  to  take  warning  from  the  fate  of  little 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST. 


85 


Rosa — 'We  to  whom  our  heavenly  Father  has  en- 
trusted the  care  and  keeping  of  his  priceless  jewels 
until  he  comes  to  claim  his  own?  May  the  Lord 
help  us  to  learn  and  love  our  lessons;  to  learn  and 
love  them  well. 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  WITH  THE  OUTCAST.  87 

CHAPTER    II. 
A     VISIT    TO     SACRAMENTO — THE     OUTCOME. 

At  the  time  of  the  preceding  experience  I  was 
the  organist  of  Redding's  Baptist  church  and  also 
superintendent  of  its  Sunday-school.  Aside  from 
this,  there  were  my  household  duties — duties  never 
to  be  neglected,  as  some  erroneously  think,  because 
of  drinking  in  the  deep  things  of  God.  Also,  there 
were  now  many  outside  calls  to  rescue  or  to  warn 
poor,  foolish  boys  and  girls.  The  heart-aches  now 
commenced  in  real  earnest;  for  too  many  refused 
to  heed,  and  in  many  cases  the  home  environments 
were  of  such  a  nature  as  to  prohibit  even  an  or- 
dinary moral  tone,  the  unfortunate  offspring  be- 
ing the  victims  of  both  pre-natal  and  post-natal 
conditions. 

Business  now  demanded  my  husband's  absence 
from  home  for  some  time.  Taking  advantage  of 
the  opportunity  thus  afforded,  I,  with  my  son,  a 
youth  aged  fifteen,  made  a  necessary  visit  to  Sac- 
Dramento.  Here,  in  the  First  Baptist  church,  I 
taught  a  class  of  young  men  in  their  teens.  Soon 
after  my  coming,  a  revival  in  the  First  M.  E. 
church,  which  I  constantly  attended,  brought  me 
great  blessing  from  the  Lord.  This  revival  was 
followed  by  a  similar  one  at  the  First  Baptist 
church. 


38  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

In  order  to  insure  the  success  of  the  latter  meet- 
ing Rev.  A.  B.  Banks,  the  pastor,  now  deceased, 
a  most  eloquent  and  lovable  man,  whom  we  de- 
lighted in  calling  "Father"  Banks,  announced  the 
necessity  of  distributing  handbills  and  asked  for 
volunteers  to  place  one  in  every  home  in  the  dis- 
tricts in  which  they  lived,  and  also,  wherever  pos- 
sible, to  give  a  verbal  invitation.  It  so  happened 
that  the  district  in  which  my  son  and  I  lodged 
contained  the  resorts  of  the  wandering  girls.  Some 
of  these   places   were  less  than  two  blocks  away. 

BTO     ONE     VO^TTNTEEBED     FOB     THIS     ZiOCAIiITT. 

There  was  a  prolonged  pause,  a  painful  pause. 
I  felt  as  though  every  eye  were  upon  me,  and  I 
experienced  a  sharp  struggle;  but  hallelujah!  the 
next  moment  the  Lord  had  the  victory — land  my 
hand  went  up.  Father  Banks  fervently  said,  "God 
bless  you  for  this,  my  little  sister!  and  he  will." 

You  may  be  sure  I  did  not  want  to  go  alone.  I 
invited  several  to  keep  me  company;  I  prayed  the 
greater  part  of  that  Sunday  night;  I  visited  sev- 
eral Christians  on  Monday  morning,  stating  to 
them  that  I  had  never  been  in  such  a  quarter,  and 
was  timid.  "They  all  with  one  accord  began  to 
make  excuse."     Luke  14:  18. 

Oh,  how  I  prayed  for  grace  and  strength!  As 
I  traversed  that  district,  believe  me,  I  felt  almost 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  39 

the  visible  presence  of  angels,  and  was  soon  giv- 
ing God's  message  of  tender  love  to  inmate  after 
inmate  of  those  awful  dens. 

How  did  they  accept,  you  ask?  Many  with 
tears  coursing  down  their  cheeks.  Very  few  but 
manifested  some  feeling.  Scarcely  any,  however, 
promised  to  come  out  to  the  revival  services.  Nearly 
all  declared  that  they  did  not  believe  they  would 
receive  kind  treatment  if  they  did  come,  and  none 
of  them  wanted  to  be  looked  upon  or  treated  as  an 
outcast.  One  girl  allowed  me  to  come  in  and  pray 
for  her.  Later  on  she  was  most  wonderfully  saved 
and  sanctified  in  the  rescue  home  of  which  I  shall 
now  speak. 

Yes,  a  rescue  home  for  girls  was  about  to  be 
opened  and  established  in  answer  to  the  prayers 
of  many,  especially  some  of  the  dear  Christian 
workers  of  the  "Peniel"  Mission  situated  on  K. 
near  Fourth  Street.  Some  of  these  I  had  become 
acquainted  with  since  the  revival  meetings  com- 
menced. I  learned  that  Mrs.  Glide,  a  consecrated 
lady  of  much  means,  had  guaranteed  the  payment 
of  a  year's  rent  on  a  ten-roomed  cottage  on  Second 
and  O.  Streets. 

Desirious  of  seeing  this  home  for  myself  and  of 
assisting,  if  requisite,  I  soon  wended  my  way  to 
the  locality  named. 

The   building   was   old   and    rather  dilapidated. 


40  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

and  as  yet  it  contained  but  one  piece  of  furni- 
ture, a  cheap  washstand  bureau.  Some  of  the 
young  men  were  putting  new  panes  of  glass  into 
the  windows,  others  were  papering  the  walls  with 
odds  and  ends,  which  had  been  donated.  Sister 
Jennie  Cloninger  was  busy  scraping  an  old  bath- 
tub with  a  piece  of  glass,  preparatory  to  painting 
it,  and  Sister  Eva  Shearer  had  her  dress  tucked 
up  whilst  mopping  one  of  the  floors.  Every  one 
was  busy  and  happy  in  the  Lord's  service. 

"Sister  Shearer  dear,  what  can  I  do  to  help 
this  blessed  work?"     I  inquired. 

"Sister  Roberts,  that  washstand  is  all  the  furni- 
ture we  have.  Please  go  in  the  name  of  Jesus  and 
ask  for  donations,"  she  replied. 

Prayerfully  I  started  on  my  errand,  and  soon 
had  many  promises  from  hotel  proprietors  and 
others. 

Shortly  after  this  my  son,  having  an  ambition 
to  see  more  of  the  world,  grew  restless.  All  ef- 
fort on  my  part  failed  to  keep  him  near  me.  I 
simply  commended  him  to  the  One  who  has  prom- 
ised that  if  we  are  faithful  "our  righteousness  shall 
be  for  our  children,"  and  comforted  myself  with 
this  promise  as  I  sorrowfully  bade  him  farewell 
and  returned  to  my  lonely  lodgings.  Did  I  say 
lonely?  I  made  a  mistake.  To  be  sure,  I  greatly 
missed  my  boy,  but  he  was  in  our  Father's  keep- 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  4t 

ing,    and    I    was   dwelling   in   "the   secret   of   his 
presence"  who  doeth  all  things  well. 

Soon  afterward  I  returned  to  my  home  in  Red- 
ding^ taking  the  journey  as  a  singing  evangelist 
with  Mr,  and  Mrs.  C.  E.  Thurston,  an  elderly 
couple  then  in  undenominational  gospel-wagon 
work.  It  was  on  this  trip  that,  in  answer  to  re- 
peated prayer,  I  acquired  my  first  autoharp,  which 
I  shall  frequently  mention  in  connection  with  my 
work.  "How  did  I  come  by  it?"  I  will  tell  you 
in  the  next  chapter. 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  WITH  THE  OUTCAST.  43 

CHAPTER    III. 

MY     FIRST    AUTOHARP — I     FORSAKE    ALL    TO 
FOLLOW     JESUS. 

There  it  lay,  all  covered  with  dust,  in  that  auc- 
tioneer's window  in  Chico.  We  had  just  arrived 
from  Sheridan,  Sutter  County,  where  we  had  con- 
ducted  a   successful   series   of  meetings. 

In  the  latter  place  we  had  been  able  to  borrow 
a  small  organ,  and  I  had  a  splendid  choir  of  lit- 
tle children,  who  crowded  our  commodious  wagon 
an  hour  each  evening  before  service,  that  time 
being  devoted  to  serenading  the  neighborhood  with 
gospel  song.  There  I  saw  the  drunkard  and  the 
saloon-keeper  yield  to  the  blessed  influence  of  the 
singing  by  these  sweet,  innocent  little  children  of 
songs  such  as  "Wash  me  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb, 
and  I  shall  be  whiter  than  snow."  But  the  time 
soon  came  when  we  must  part  with  the  little  organ 
as  well  as  with  the  dear  children. 

How  I  longed  and  prayed  for  an  autoharp !  At 
this  time  my  pocket-book  was  well-nigh  empty, 
my  husband  having  met  with  total  loss  in  mining 
enterprises.  I  possessed  exactly  $2.50  on  the  day 
when  we  reached  Chico. 

As  I  looked  in  that  auctioneer's  window,  some- 
how I  felt  that  that  humble,  little  three-barred 
autoharp  was  to  be  mine.     I  stepped  in,  priced  it, 


44  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

and  presently  told  the  proprietor  what  use  was  to 
be  made  of  it.  He  had  at  the  first  asked  $5.00; 
now  he  offered  it,  for  such  a  cause,  at  half  price. 
Hallelujah!  How  gladly  I  parted  with  my  last 
cent  and  joyfully  walked  out  with  my  precious 
little  musical  instrument,  destined  to  go  with  me  on 
my  visits  to  comfort  and  help  save  the  lost.  I  will 
tell  you"  of  my  present  one  later  on. 

Leaving  Chico  that  afternoon,  we  camped  in  the 
evening  under  some  beautiful  live-oak  trees,  be- 
side a  clear,  running  creek.  This  was  in  Tehama, 
Tehama  County.  There,  before  retiring,  and  fol- 
lowing our  family  devotions,  I  dedicated  my  lit- 
tle instrument  to  the  Lord's  work,  praying  as  I 
did  so  that  he  would  use  it  absolutely,  together 
with  me  and  my  voice,  in  helping  to  win  precious 
souls  for  his  kingdom. 

Soon  afterwards  I  was  once  more  in  my  Redding 
home  and  resuming  my  former  avocations  in  the 
church  and  Sunday-school.  But  what  had  come 
over  me?  what  had  wrought  such  a  change?  For, 
strange  to  say,  I  was  no  longer  satisfied  with  sim- 
ply the  church  work,  I  spent  evening  after  eve- 
ning and  all  spare  time  in  the  humble  little  mis- 
sion down-town  or  amongst  the  outcasts,  though 
never  neglecting  my  home. 

My  husband,  always  a  reserved,  proud  man, 
one  day  gave  me  an  unexpected  shock.     Without 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  4« 

forewarning  he  quietly,  coldly  informed  me  that 
I  must  decide  between  the  rescue  work  and  him. 

"Do  you  mean  it?"  I  inquired. 

"I  certainly  do/'  was  his  reply. 

Oh,  how  I  agonized  with  my  Lord  in  prayer  as 
soon  as  I  could  have  the  privilege !  Then  I  opened 
his  Word  for  comfort,  and  my  answer  was,  "Ye 
are  bought  with  a  price;  be  not  ye  the  servants  of 
men."  1  Cor.  7:  23.  Wlhat  did  this  mean?  I  was 
too  young  a  child  of  the  King  to  comprehend,  and 
therefore  could  only  wait  and  pray.  So  troubled 
at  heart  was  I  at  my  husband's  pride  and  grow- 
ing coldness  that  I  at  last  visited  the  pastor  of  the 
church  where  my  name  was  enrolled.  He  tried 
to  persuade  me  to  refrain  from  any  but  church 
work,  and  also  did  his  utmost  to  effect  a  reconcilia- 
tion between  my  husband  and  me,  but  all  to  no 
effect.  Mr.  Roberts  refused  to  listen,  and  the 
breach  widened.  I  seldom  crossed  my  threshold 
those  days,  yet  yearned  to  be  out  in  God's  field. 
Circumstances,  which  it  is  neither  pleasant  nor  prof- 
itable to  relate  here,  soon  necessitated  the  break- 
ing up  of  my  home.  I  was  looking  to  God  for 
guidance.  I  did  not  have  to  wait  long,  for  a  door 
was  soon  opened.  A  letter  from  Sister  Belle  Tref- 
ren,  of  Sacramento,  with  whom  I  had  much  corres- 
pondence, especially  relative  to  the  rescue  home 
already  referred  to,  now  for  several  months   oc- 


46  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

cupied,  informed  me  of  the  severe  illness  of  its 
matron. 

"Is  it  not  strange,"  she  wrote,  "that  in  all  this 
great  city  none  come  to  her  aid  excepting  for  a 
few  hours  at  a  time?  If  help  does  not  arrive  soon, 
I  fear  she  will  die.  Why  could  not  you  spend  a 
while  with  her,  and  thus  relieve  her  of  this  very 
heavy  burden  until  she  is  sufficiently  recovered  to 
take  her  accustomed  place  again.''  Besides,  dear 
Sister  Roberts,  I  have  long  felt  that  the  Lord  wants 
you  to  cut  loose  from  the  shore-lines  and  'launch 
out  into  the  deep,'  where  are  to  be  found  the  big- 
gest, best  fish.  Pray  over  this,  as  I  am  now  do- 
ing, and  the  light  will  surely  come  to  you." 

I  praj'ed,  and  the  light  came  quickly.  I  wrote 
Sister  Trefren  that  I  might  soon  be  looked  for  in 
Sacramento,  and  that  I  was  simply  waiting  on  the 
I^ord. 

I  soon  resigned  my  church  office,  and  early  one 
bright,  beautiful  morning  I  bade  farewell  to  Red- 
ding. Just  before  the  train  drew  out  of  the  depot, 
I  opened  my  Bible.  My  eyes  were  focused  on  these 
words  (many  friends  had  gathered  to  bid  me  God- 
speed) :  "And  let  us  not  be  weary  in  well-doing; 
for  in  due  season  we  shall  reap,  if  we  faint  not." 
Gal.  6:9.  I  stood  on  the  rear  platform  of  the 
train,  holding  up  the  open  Bible,  and  soon  Red- 
ding and  friends  disappeared  from  my  vision.     I 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  47 

was  indeed  and  in  truth  now  alone  with  my  Lord 
and  on  the  road  to  the  little  rescue  home  in  Sac- 
ramento, with  my  precious  autoharp  lying  by  my 
side. 

In  the  afternoon,  as  time  seemingly  dragged 
and  many  passengers  showed  signs  of  weariness,*  I 
picked  up  the  little  instrument.  Soon  from  one 
end  to  the  other  of  the  car  diflFerent  ones  sang  with 
me  familiar  song  after  song  of  Zion.  The  journey 
ended  joyously,  some  being  strengthened  in  their 
faith  on  that  trip,  and  more  than  one  acquaintance 
being  made  which  later  ripened  into  warm  Chris- 
tian friendship.     Praise  the  Lord ! 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  WITH  THE  OUTCAST.  49 

CHAPTER    IV. 

I    AM     INTRODUCED    TO    THE    RESCUE     HOME 
FAMILY — A    GLORIOUS    TEST. 

My  cherished  friend.  Sister  Trefren  was  at  the 
depot  to  greet  me,  and  I  spent  that  first  night 
under  her  roof.  Early  in  the  morning  came  a 
message  from  the  home,  requesting  that,  if  I  felt 
sufficiently  rested,  to  come  to  them  as  speedily  as 
possible. 

She  was  a  beautiful  girl — I  mean  the  one  who 
responded  to  my  ringing  of  the  door-bell.  Oh, 
how  she  surveyed  me  (though  not  rudely)  from 
head  to  foot!  We  shall  hear  Leila's  story  in  an- 
other chapter.  Soon  I  was  at  the  bedside  of  the 
sick  matron,  who,  though  hardly  able  to  speak, 
greeted  me  lovingly  and  tearfully.  In  a  few  minutes 
a  trusted  girl  was  given  some  directions,  and  then 
I  was  invited  into  the  sitting-room.  There  were 
assembled  all  the  inmates  of  the  home,  and  I  was 
soon  warmly  greeting,  first  collectively  and  later 
individually. 

"My,  what  an  opportunity  to  study  character!" 
I  said  to  myself  as  I  observed  the  twenty-ioai 
faces  into  which  I  had  a  bare  glimpse.  I  pres- 
ently asked  them  if  they  would  please  kneel  and 
pray  with  me  and  for  me,  and  soon  I  found  my- 
self,  for   the   first  time,   listening  to  the   humble. 


50  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

earnest  petitions  of  these  precious  jewels  in  the 
rough. 

Brokenly  and  tearfully,  they  thanked  God  for 
rescuing  them  from  lives  of  sin,  shame,  and  despair ; 
for  providing  so  good  a  home,  food,  and  shelter  (it 
was  all  very  modest  and  humble).  Some  praised 
Him  for  sanctification  as  well  as  salvation.  (Per- 
haps my  reader  does  not  know  the  interpretation 
of  that  word,  "sanctification."  Briefly,  it  refers 
to  a  second  blessing,  following  justification,  or  the 
forgiveness  of  sins;  a  second  work  of  grace, 
whereby  the  nature  becomes  purified  and  kept  free 
from  sin  by  the  operation  and  power  of  God's 
Holy  Spirit — now  the  indwelling  presence.)  Then 
how  fervent  were  the  prayers  for  the  healing  of 
the  sick  matron !  and  now,  "O  God,  please  bless 
Mrs.  Roberts  for  coming  to  her  aid  and  ours," 
ending  by  thanking  him  for  answering  their  earn- 
est appeal  for  help  in  their  time  of  great  need. 

I  forgot  all  my  own  heartaches  as  I  drank  in 
and  indorsed  every  word,  and  then,  with  all  my 
being,  offered  the  closing  prayer.  Soon  the  trials 
and  testings  commenced  in  real  earnest. 

In  such  a  place  it  does  not  require  many  days, 
nay,  many  hours,  to  discover  the  subtlety  of  the 
enemy  of  souls.  For  some  time  my  nerves,  never 
too  strong,  were  so  wrought  upon  that  I  was  under 
a  constant  strain,  and  more  than  once,  fearing  a 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  ffl 

breakdown,  felt  that  I  should  be  compelled  to  re- 
linquish my  arduous  duties. 

In  answer  to  prayer,  our  Father,  ever  mindful 
of  his  own,  strengthened  me  and  bestowed  the 
necessary  knowledge  and  wisdom,  so  that  I  was 
soon  able  to  cope  with  the  situation,  which  was 
this:  None  of  these  precious  ones  had  long  been 
established;  some  were  not  yet  saved.  Cravings, 
in  one  form  or  another,  for  the  old  life,  perhaps  a 
thirst  for  liqour,  would  at  times  secretly  take  pos- 
session of  one  or  another,  and  frequently  some 
saved  girl  would  come  to  me,  saying,  "Sister  Rob- 
erts, Mamie  [or  some  other]  has  gone  out  without 
permission."  Then  I  would  quickly  telephone  to 
police  headquarters  to  be  on  the  lookout  for  her 
and  to  have  her  privately  detained  until  some  one 
from  the  home  could  come.  Often  we  were  com- 
pelled -to  tell  the  erring  one  that  the  law  would 
have  to  take  its  course  if  she  rebelled  or  refused. 
Sometimes  such  a  one  would  almost  hate  us  be- 
cause she  did  not  comprehend  how  much  we  had 
the  interest  of  both  body  and  soul  at  heart. 

Ah!  reader,  do  you  realize  what  it  means  to 
"stand  still"  in  the  trying  hours?  to  watch  our 
Father's  Spirit  working  in  the  lives  and  natures  of 
the  outcast?  Truly  it  is  marvelous,  marvelous! 
Soon  I  will  relate  the  story  of  one  of  our  family, 
but  before  I  do  so,  permit  me  to  give  you  my  first 


52  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

Sunday's  experience.  I  think  it  will  be  interest- 
ing. 

I  arrived  at  the  home  on  Tuesday.  On  Friday 
morning,  Sister  B — - — ,  the  sick  matron,  said  as  I 
stood  by  her  bedside:  "Sister  Roberts,  all  our  fam- 
ily of  girls  whose  health  will  permit  are  in  the 
habit  of  attending  Sunday  morning  worship  in  one 
of  the  churches ;  in  the  afternoon ,  those  who  wish, 
attend  the  mission;  and  in  the  evening  we  have 
prayer-service  at  home.  I  shall  not,  as  you  know, 
be  able  to  go  with  them  for  some  time  to  come. 
That  duty  devolves  upon  you,  dear,  for  the  pres- 
ent." Imagine,  if  you  can,  my  feelings.  "Sister, 
I  fail  to  see  that  the  Lord  requires  any  such  sac- 
rifice on  my  part,"  I  impulsively  replied.  "I  think 
it  sufficient  to  work  with  and  for  them  here  in  the 
home.  What  would  my  former  society  friends  say 
or  think  should  any  chance  to  meet  me  with  them.''" 
And  the  tears  of  (righteous?)  indignation  filled 
my  eyes.  "My  dear,"  she  gently  replied,  "talce 
a  little  time  in  your  room  alone  with  God.  He 
will  make  it  clear,  what  he  would  have  you  to  do." 

Soon  I  was  locked  in,  where  I  sat  for  a  few 
moments  on  the  side  of  my  little  bed,  as  rebellions 
and  indignant  as  ever  I  was  in  all  my  life. 

When  I  grew  somewhat  calmer,  I  fell  upon  my 
knees  and  sobbed  out  my  troubles  at  the  foot  of 
the   cross.      Painfully,    I    at   last    submitted,   pro- 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  58 

vided  it  was  the  will  of  God;  and  in  my  prayer  I 
requested  "Should  such  be  thy  will,  please  see  that 
none  of  my  friends  of  social  standing  chance  to 
cross  my  pathway  on  this  occasion."  Then  I  arose 
from  my  knees. 

Sunday  morning  found  thirteen  girls  neatly  clad 
and  all  impatiently  waiting  for  my  appearance. 
Never  in  all  my  lifetime  did  I  start  on  a  trip  more 
fearfully  or  timidly.  We  had  not  traveled  half  a  block 
when,  on  turning  a  corner,  I  saw  a  family  whom 
my  family  and  I  held  in  high  estimation.  We  both 
received  a  never-to-be-forgotten  shock.  I  was 
greeted  with  a  surprised  bow  of  interrogation  from 
the  wife,  whilst  the  husband  very  slightly  raised 
his  hat.  My  girls  behaved  beautifully,  little  dream- 
ing the  state  of  my  feelings. 

Old  Adam  dies  very  hard  sometimes,  doesn't 
he?  I  soon  met  others  and  still  others.  Never 
did  I  so  long  for  even  a  knot-hole  into  which  to 
crawl,  but  no  such  place  presented  itself.  Precious 
Lord,  thou  knewest  what  was  for  my  best  interest 
when  thou  didst  in  thine  infinite  love  and  wisdom 
thus  answer  such  a  selfish  prayer. 

The  next  chapter  will  introduce  you  to  the  naugh- 
tiest girl  in  the   home. 


J 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  WITH  THE  OUTCAST.  *55 

CHAPTER    V. 

A     CRUSHING     SITUATION — WONDERFUL 
VISION — THE    STORY    OF    RITA. 

We  had  not  been  very  long  in  the  second- from- 
the-front  pew  of  the  First  Baptist  church,  when 
Rita,  who,  at  the  private  suggestion  of  the  matron, 
I  had  placed  next  to  me,  began  to  embarrass  and 
disconcert  me  by  her  actions,  causing  the  rest  of 
the  girls  to  titter  (sometimes  audibly)  and  thixs 
to  attract  the  congregation,  also  the  pastor,  so  that 
finally  an  usher  had  occasion  to  whisper  to  me, 
admonishing  me  to  retire  with  her,  to  which  she 
replied,  "I  ain't  agoing  out." 

Mortified  beyond  measure,  I  let  my  head  sink 
forward  on  the  back  of  the  pew  in  front  of  me.  I 
soon  became  oblivious  of  my  surroundings,  for  I  was 
being  blest  with  a  wonderful  vision. 

I  saw  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane,  It  was  night, 
and  sleeping  souls  lay  all  around.  One  there  was 
who  was  not  sleeping.  He  was  prostrate  in  agony 
of  prayer.  As  he  wrung  his  hands,  the  blood  started 
through  his  pores,  and  dripped  down  upon  the 
ground.  Then  a  light  shone  around  him,  a  glorious 
light.  Presently  he  arose,  and  the  place  filled  sud- 
denly with  soldiers  who  led  him  away,  shouting  in 
triumph  as. they  did  so.  Quickly  the  scene  changed. 
Christ  was  now  before  the  high   priests.     Again 


56  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

the  scene  changed.  He  was  passing  by  a  man  who 
was  strenuously,  indignantly  denying  that  he  knew 
or  had  had  anything  to  do  with  thp  man  under 
arrest.  Oh !  would  that  words  of  mine  could  pic- 
ture the  suffering,  sorrowful  countenance,  as  Je- 
sus gave  poor  Peter  that  parting,  yearning  look. 
Pilate's  hall  was  soon  in  sight,  and  the  men  in 
charge  of  Jesus  were  mocking  and  smiting  him. 
It  was  cold,  and  scarcely  dawn  of  day.  What  a 
throng,  as  they  crowded  into  the  presence  of  Pilate. 
Again  the  scene  changes.  The  Christ  is  being 
mockingly  arrayed  in  a  once  gorgeous,  now  old, 
shabby  robe.  Soon  he  is  wearily  pulled  and  pushed 
back  to  Pilate's  hall,  where  they  strip  the  Son  of 
God  in  the  presence  of  that  howling  mob,  and  beat 
him,  until  the  blood  streams  down  his  poor,  lacer- 
ated back.  Surely  that  is  sufficient;  but  no!  they 
spit  in  his  face.  They  press  a  cruel  crown  hard 
down  upon  his  brow.  Now  Pilate  has  washed  his 
hands,  and  the  Savior  of  the  world  is  led  away. 
The  soldiers  are  compelling  him  to  bear  some  heavy 
wooden  beams  in  the  form  of  a  cross.  Oh !  can't 
they  see  that  he  is  too  weak,  suffering  too  much, 
to  be  able  to  carry  such  a  weight?  They  do  not 
care ;  but  look !  he  has  fainted !  Some  one  is  help- 
ing him  now.  God  forever  bless  him !  'Tis  Simon 
the  Cyrenean  who  enjoys  that  precious  privilege. 
Simon,  the  cross-bearer. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  57 

I  can  not  bear  to  witness  any  more.  But  I  must. 
I  must  watch  to  the  end. 

Oh!  the  awful  thud,  thud,  thud,  as  they  ham- 
mer the  spikes,  the  cruel  spikes  into  his  hands  and 
feet,  and  he  never  once  cringes.  How  can  he  be 
so  courageous? 

I  am  looking  up  at  him  now,  and  he  is  looking 
down  with  such  an  uninterpretable  look  on  me,  and 
I  hear  him  faintly  say:  "For  you." 

"Yes,  Lord,  I  know." 

"And  now  won't  you  try  to  love  my  poor  shorn 
little  lambs.''     'Tis  for  them  also." 

"Yes,  dear  Lord,  I  am  trying  to." 

"Would  you  be  willing  to  lay  down  your  life 
for  little  Rita,  for  the  sake  of  her  soul.''" 

"Blessed  Savior,  surely  that  will  not  be  re- 
quired, but  fill  me  full  of  love,  a  great  love  for  her 
soul  and  other  souls.  I  promise  that  with  thy 
help  I  will  do  my  best,  for  oh,  how  I  love  thee  now ! 
how  I  love  thee !  and  I  will  do  anything  thou  dost 
require  to  prove  my  love." 

Some  one  is  pulling  my  sleeve.  I  turn  my  head  to 
find  Rita  leaning  against  me  and  quietly  whisper- 
ing, "Mother,  don't  cry;  I'll  be  good.     Don't  cry." 

From  that  time  on  the  change  in  Rita  was  un- 
mistakable, and  although  she  had  many  hard  bat- 
tles to  fight,  to  lose,  and  to  win,  she  came  out 
gloriously  victorious. 


58  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

"Who  was  Rita?"     I'll  tell  you. 

Rita  was  a  roguish,  fun-loving,  childish  little 
woman,  twenty-one  years  old,  who  neither  acted 
nor  looked  her  age.  Her  mother  had  been  a  wait- 
ress in  one  of  the  dives  of  a  locality  called  "The 
Barbary  Coast,"  San  Francisco,  where  are  many 
low,  vile  haunts  of  vice.  Her  father,  she  never 
knew.  She  was  very  dark,  apparently  part  Span- 
ish, quite  attractive,  and  rather  pretty. 

Some  time  prior  to  my  advent  she  was  brought 
to  the  home  in  a  semi-intoxicated  condition  by  one 
of  the  Lord's  consecrated  missionaries.  Full  of 
mischief  and  depravity,  she  was,  from  the  first, 
a  trouble-maker.  From  her  earliest  recollection, 
her  companions  had  all  been  of  the  type  with  whom 
her  mother  associated ;  therefore  it  would  take  time, 
great  and  loving  patience,  and  a  constant  waiting 
on  the  Master  for  her  to  harmonize  perfectly  with 
new  environments. 

This  poor  girl  had  seen  no  other  life,  up  to 
within  a  few  weeks  of  my  meeting  her,  than  a  life 
replete  with  vice  from  one  day's  ending  to  an- 
other. Much  of  the  time  she  had  participated.  But 
be  it  recorded  to  the  credit  of  her  mother  that,  to 
the  extent  of  her  knowledge,  she  had  guarded 
her  girl  from  criminal  assault  as  long  as  she  was 
able  to  control  her,  and  that,  when  told  of  Rita's  be- 
ing in  the  rescue  home,  she  seemed  greatly  pleased 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  59 

that  at  last  her  daughter  had  found  friends  who 
would  do  their  utmost  to  help  her  lead  a  better  life. 
Rita  had  an  uncontrollable  temper,  in  conse- 
quence of  which  the  entire  household  was  some- 
times made  to  suffer  keenly;  but  she  would  eventu- 
ally yield  to  earnest  persuasion,  then  kneel  dovm 
and  ask  forgiveness  of  God  and  the  family.  She 
was  very  ambitious  to  learn  to  read,  being  entirely 
devoid  of  education.  Different  members  would 
take  it  in  turn  to  teach  her,  and  it  was  a  proud 
day  when  she  could  decipher  a  few  words  in  her 
Bible.  I  never  shall  forget  the  evening  of  her 
first  realization  of  the  price  Jesus  had  paid  for  her. 
It  dawned  upon  her  soul  so  suddenly,  so  beauti- 
fully, following  a  mid-week  prayer-meeting,  in 
which  some  of  the  Christians  interested  in  this 
work  often  participated,  that  a  great  shout  of  joy 
went  up,  and  when  we  retired  that  night,  some  of 
us  were  too  grateful  and  too  excited  to  sleep.  Oh, 
how  the  adversary  attacked  and  tried  over  and 
over  again  to  get  her  back  to  his  territory!  He 
once  so  well  succeeded  that  we  finally  deemed  it 
necessary  to  exchange  her  into  another  home.  I 
was  the  one  deputized  to  take  her  there,  and  very 
soon  was  introducing  myself  to  Mrs.  Elizabeth 
Kauflfman,  whose  noble  work  for  the  erring,  in 
San  Francisco  and  other  places,  is  known  to  the 
thousands.    After  placing  Rita  under  her  kind  care 


60  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

in  the  rescue  home,  then  situated  on  Capp  Street 
near  Twenty-first  Street,  in  San  Francisco,  I  re- 
turned to  my  post  of  duty  in  Sacramento,  little 
dreaming  at  that  time  what  an  important  place 
I  was  destined,  in  the  future,  to  occupy  with  Sister 
Kauffman. 

Erelong  I  learned,  through  correspondence,  that 
my  little  Rita  (who,  by  the  way,  was  the  first  one 
outside  of  my  own  family  to  give  me  the  endear- 
ing title  of  "Mother,"  which  title  has  clung  to  me 
ever  since)  had  found  a  warm  friend  in  a  deacon- 
ess whose  name  I  have  forgotten,  but  who  took  a 
loving  interest  in  her  and  greatly  aided  her,  espe- 
cially from  the  spiritual  point  of  view. 

Rita,  with  the  approval  of  her  guardians,  mar- 
ried a  Christian  young  man.  Together  they  are 
bringing  up  their  little  ones  to  know  and  love  the 
Savior  so  precious  to  them ;  and,  through  the  daugh- 
ter's example  the  mother,  so  long  a  wanderer  in 
paths  of  degradation,  was,  I  have  understood,  find- 
ing purity  and  peace  for  her  soul.  At  the  time  of 
the  earthquake  and  great  fire  in  San  Francisco, 
Rita  and  her  loved  ones,  I  am  told,  escaped  with- 
out so  much  as  the  loss  of  a  dish.  This  remarkable 
fact  proves  that  God  is  ever  mindful  of  those  who 
put  their  entire  trust  in  him  and  who  live  as  does 
this  precious  jewel  and  her  family,  on  the  prom- 
ises of  the  ninety-first  Psalm. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  81 

CHAPTER    VI. 
MY    FIRST    CALL   TO    THE    PRISON    WORK. 

After  I  had  been  in  the  Sacramento  home  about 
a  month,  the  matron  became  suflficiently  recovered 
to  go  into  the  country  in  order  to  recuperate.  In 
the  meanwhile  the  dear  Lord  had  laid  it  upon  the 
hearts  of  two  consecrated  workers  to  assist  me,  so 
that  I  was  now  occasionally  free  for  some  outside 
work.  Taking  advantage  of  this,  a  lady  who  had 
been  a  constant  attendant  at  the  jail  services  for 
many  years,  urged  me  to  come  on  the  following 
Sunday  afternoon  with  my  little  autoharp.  This, 
by  the  way,  was  an  every-day  friend  in  our  fam- 
ily, for  most  of  our  girls  could  sing,  and  we  were 
soon  learning  many  beautiful  hymns,  with  either 
my  modest  instrument  or  the  parlor  organ  for  an 
accompaniment.  When  something  would  go  wrong, 
the  matter  would  be  laid  before  the  Lord  in  prayer, 
and  singing  was  the  next  thing  in  order.  How  you 
would  have  appreciated  and  enjoyed  hearing  our 
family  joining  in  with  all  their  hearts — 

I  must  tell  Jesus  all  of  my  trials, 
I  can  not  bear  these  burdens  alone; 

In  my  distress  he  kindly  will  help  me, 
Ho  ever  loves  and  cares  for  his  own. 

They  would  repeat  it  over  and  over  until  sweet 
peace  filled  their  souls  once  more. 


«2  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

But  to  return  to  the  invitation  to  the  county 
jail.  I  begged  to  be  excused  on  the  ground  of  sen- 
sitiveness. I  felt  that  I  could  not  bear  to  look 
upon  any  more  distress  than  I  was  a  daily  wit- 
ness to  outside  of  prison  walls.  To  see  human  be- 
ings caged  up  like  so  many  wild  animals  I  thought 
would  be  more  than  I  could  bear;  therefore  I  un- 
hesitatingly said  so.  She  continued  her  pleadings^ 
adding,  "O  Sister  Roberts,  you  will  never  know 
how  much  good  you  could  accomplish  or  how  much 
precious  seed  might  be  sown  if  you  would  only 
come  with  that  little  autoharp  of  yours."  But  I 
was  imyielding.  She  left  me  with  sorrow  on  her 
countenance. 

This  refusal  was  followed  by  deep  condemna- 
tion— condemnation  which  lasted  a  whole  week. 
When,  at  last,  I  promised  the  Lord  I  would  take 
up  this  cross  and  go  if  once  more  invited,  the 
burden  lifted. 

About  two  o'clock  the  next  Sunday  afternoon 
I  found  myself,  with  a  band  of  about  twenty  work- 
ers, behind  iron  bars,  looking  into  the  faces  of 
nearly  two  hundred  men  and  boys  and  a  few 
women.  Oh!  but  the  tears  flowed  from  my  eyes, 
especially  for  the  boys,  many  of  whom  were  so 
young,  as  I  wondered  what  would  be  the  outcome 
of  their  present  association  and  environment.  It 
seemed  awful!  awful! 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  68 

I  sang  song  after  song;  then  I  was  invited  to 
speak.  My  heart  was  too  full  for  many  words, 
but  when  the  invitation  was  given  to  seek  our  Sav- 
ior, many  hands  went  up  for  special  prayer.  The 
meeting  soon  closed.  Then  as  those  terrible  but 
necessary  iron  doors  again  unlocked  and  the  pris- 
oners filed  past  us  one  by  one  to  their  lonely, 
cheerless  quarters,  I  made  up  my  mind  to  come 
whenever  I  could,  and,  whenever  permitted,  to  do 
and  say  what  I  could  to  help  the  "whosoever  wills," 
also  to  use  my  influence  in  certain  quarters  for  the 
betterment  of  the  children  prisoners,  not  one  of 
whom  but  doubtless  had  been  cheated  out  of  his 
birthright  by  untutored,  ofttimes  wilfully  ignorant 
parents  or  guardians. 

Let  me  call  your  attention  to  one  of  the  women 
prisoners,  whose  peculiarly  repulsive  countenance 
was  so  remarkable  that  when  we  came  away  from 
the  jail  I  interrogated  one  of  the  workers  con- 
cerning her.  To  my  amazement,  I  was  informed 
that  the  woman  (Nell)  was  regarded  as  a  hopeless 
case,  and  also  that  she  had  enjoyed  musical  educa- 
tional advantages,  her  people  having  sent  her  to 
Paris  to  complete  certain  accomplishments.  There, 
in  that  wicked  capital,  she  became  very  gay,  soon 
acquired  the  absinth  habit,  and  rapidly  descended 
in  the  social  scale,  and  now  she  was  scarcely  ever 
out  of  prison.     It  was  very  difficult  to  realize  that 


64  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

this  poor  soul,  who  now  was  never  known  to  use 
any  but  vile  language  and  oaths,  was  once  a  beau- 
tiful young  woman,  a  linguist,  pianist,  singer,  also 
otherwise  accomplished  person.  Though  all  ef- 
forts (there  had  been  many)  in  her  behalf  had 
proved  futile,  I  determined  to  make  an  attempt  to 
save  her.  Accordingly  I  paid  a  special  visit  to  the 
women's  quarters.  So  far  as  she  was  concerned, 
it  was  all  to  no  purpose ;  but  oh !  praise  the  dear 
Lord!  I  found  others  who  would  heed,  and  I  had 
a  blessed  time  of  Bible  reading,  song,  and  prayer 
with  them. 

One  of  these  was  a  young  girl,  Anita,  who  had 
been  arrested  at  the  request  of  her  mother — yes, 
her  own  mother.  "Why,  what  kind  of  unnatural 
mother  could  she  have  been?"  you  ask.  Not  dif- 
ferent from  many  others  with  whom  I  have  been 
brought  in  contact.  The  daughter  implored  me  to 
call  on  her  mother  and  beg  her  not  to  consent  to 
her  being  sent  to  the  reform  school,  the  girl  sol- 
emnly promising  good  behavior  in  the  future.  How 
she  clung  to  me  as  I  tried  to  picture  the  merciful, 
loving  Savior.  Wle  knelt  in  prayer  in  her  lonely, 
dismal  cell,  where  she  followed  me  in  a  petition  for 
God  to  save  her  soul  and  show  her  the  way.  Anita 
appeared  to  be  about  seventeen  years  old;  but  her 
mother  with  whom  a  few  hours  later  I  had  an 
interview,  and  a  most  distressing  one,  I  assure  you, 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  65 

told  me  that  the  girl  was  but  fourteen,  that  she  had 
been  so  petted  and  spoilt  from  her  babyhood  up 
(parents  and  others,  please  take  note  of  this)  as 
to  be  absolutely  unmanageable,  that  she  was  out 
at  all  hours  of  the  night,  in  all  sorts  of  places,  with 
all  sorts  of  company. 

The  mother  appeared  to  regard  herself  as  a  very 
much  wronged,  greatly  abused  parent,  and  when 
I  gently  but  firmly  endeavored  to  place  the  blame 
where  it  belonged,  she  all  but  ordered  me  out  of  her 
house.  Her  conduct  led  me  to  the  conclusion  that 
her  daughter  would  be  better  off  in  the  place  to 
which  she  was  about  to  be  sent  than  under  the 
jurisdiction  of  such  a  parent. 

Sad  at  heart,  I  returned  to  poor  expectant  Anita, 
remaining  some  time  to  comfort  her  as  best  I  knew 
how,  and  promising  to  write  to  her  and,  God  will- 
ing, to  visit  her  in  her  new  home.  The  first  prom- 
ise was  soon  fulfilled,  and  about  one  year  later  I 
had  the  pleasure  of  personally  hearing  her  ex- 
pressions of  gratitude.  The  discipline  had  been 
most  beneficial,  and,  besides,  she  was  learning  to  be 
a  good  cook  and  housekeeper — -something  that  could 
never  have  happened  in  her  mother's  home.  A 
few  years  later,  while  I  was  holding  a  meeting  in 
one  of  the  local  churches,  many  came  forward  at 
the  close  to  greet  me.  Among  them  was  a  fine- 
looking  young  woman  with  a  pretty  baby  in  her 


66  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

arms.  "Don't  you  remember  me.  Mother  Rob- 
erts?' she  said.  "I'm  Anita."  Soon  she  was  tell- 
ing me  of  her  marriage  to  a  young  farmer  about 
eighteen  months  previously.  The  next  morning  she 
came  in  her  buggy  to  take  me  to  enjoy  a  few  hours 
in  her  cozy  home. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  67 

CHAPTER   VII. 
LEILA. 

Leila  was  that  beautiful  girl,  the  first  to  wel- 
come me  as  I  crossed  the  threshold  of  the  home. 
She  was  a  rather  reserved,  high-strung,  aristocratic- 
looking  girl,  who  did  not  always  take  kindly  to  re- 
quests made  with  regard  to  little  household  duties 
required  from  each  member  of  the  family,  health 
permitting,  of  course. 

One  day  shortly  after  my  advent  in  the  home  I 
had  occasion  to  reprimand  her.  She  turned  on  me 
with  such  language  and  so  evil,  so  distressing  an 
expression  as  to  shock  and  grieve  me  terribly.  Pres- 
ently the  dear  Lord  gained  a  glorious  victory.  I 
hunted  her  up;  for,  in  her  anger,  she  had  gone  into 
hiding,  and,  putting  my  arms  about  her,  lovingly 
implored  her  to  forgive,  as  I  had  not  intended  to 
offend  or  in  any  way  remind  her  of  her  dreadful 
past.  From  that  time  on  we  were  great  friends. 
Before  long  she  confided  to  me  her  troubles,  past 
and  present. 

Her  people  were  poor  and  proud,  and  she  did  not 
take  kindly  to  her  environments  either  at  home  or  at 
school,  and  did  not  go  quite  through  the  grammar 
grades.  Her  mother,  from  whom  she  inherited  her 
temper,  frequently  quarreled  with  her  and  also 
disparaged  her.     At  the  age  of  fifteen,  partly  be- 


68  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

cause  of  her  restlessness  and  partly  because  of  her 
desire  to  earn  money,  for  she  would  no  longer  go 
to  school,  she,  being  quite  a  tall,  well-developed 
girl,  procured  a  situation  as  waitress  in  a  wealthy 
family  near  her  home  in  the  city  of  San  Fran- 
cisco. She  was  a  Catholic.  Because  of  her  duties, 
she  attended  early  mass.  One  Sunday  morning, 
whilst  she  was  returning  from  church,  her  prayer- 
book  accidently  slipped  out  of  her  hand.  Upon 
stooping  to  pick  it  up,  she  discovered  that  she 
was  forestalled  by  a  well-dressed  gentleman  (.''), 
who  handed  it  to  her  with  an  admiring  look  and 
most  respectful  bow.  Raising  his  hat,  he  politely 
passed  on. 

As  Leila  never  expected  to  see  him  again,  im- 
agine her  astonishment  at  meeting  him  the  follow- 
ing Sunday,  when  again,  with  a  glance  of  recog- 
nition, which  flattered  this  poor  victim,  he  most 
respectfully  raised  his  hat.  The  third  Sunday  the 
same  thing  occurred  again,  but  now  instead  of  pass- 
ing by,  he  politely  accosted  her  with  words  to 
this  effect:  "Good  morning,  young  lady.  I  trust 
you  will  please  pardon  the  great  liberty  I  am  tak- 
ing. I  never  more  earnestly  wished  to  know  of 
some  one  to  introduce  me,  but  because  I  do  not, 
will  you  not  kindly  take  the  will  for  the  deed,  waive 
all  formality,  and  permit  me  the  honor  of  walking 
at  least  a  portion  of  your  way  with  you?     /  am  a 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  69 

gentleman  with  whom  you  need  not  for  a  moment 
hesitate  to  be  seen;  and  now,  may  I  have  the  pleas- 
ure of  learning  your  name?  Mine  is  Claude  For- 
rester." 

Poor  innocent,  ignorant,  flattered  Leila  began 
blushingly  to  confide  to  this  villian  her  true  name, 
her  occupation,  and  much  concerning  her  home  life. 
As  they  neared  her  employer's  residence,  they 
parted,  she  promising  to  meet  him  for  a  walk  one 
evening  during  the  week.  Her  heart  fluttered  with 
joy,  her  silly  head  was  completely  turned  at  hav- 
ing captured  so  fine  an  admirer,  and  she  could 
hardly  wait  for  the  time  to  come  when  she  was 
to  enjoy  that  promenade. 

You  may  be  sure  he  was  on  hand  at  the  desig- 
nated corner.  Leila,  in  order  to  keep  the  ap- 
pointment, resorted  to  falsehood.  She  asked  per- 
mission of  her  mistress  to  be  allowed  to  go  home 
for  some  trivial  article,  promising  to  return  by 
a  given  time.  She  kept  her  word  as  to  the  time, 
but  the  leaven  of  the  adversary  was  rapidly  work- 
ing. He  led  her  to  believe  that  he  was  the  son  of 
a  wealthy  widow  who  expected  him  to  make  "a  good 
match,"  but  that  he  was  in  the  habit  of  gaining  his 
point  with  this  indulgent  parent  whenever  he  so  de- 
sired. He  intended,  he  said,  to  confess  to  his 
mother  that  he  had  fallen  in  love  with  the  most 
beautiful,  innocent,  and  virtuous  girl  in  all  the  wide 


70  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

world,  and  to  tell  her  that  he  should  never  be  happy 
again  unless  she  would  see  Leila  and  eventually 
consent  to  her  becoming  his  dear  little  wife.  He 
told  the  confiding  girl  that  he  intended  to  lavish  on 
her  all  his  wealth.  He  pictured  the  beautiful  gar- 
ments that  she  was  to  wear,  the  jewels,  the  car- 
riage, the  home.  He  promised  also  to  give  her 
private  lessons  in  order  to  fit  her  for  her  position 
as  his  wife.  Poor,  poor  little  girl!  Who  does  not 
pity  this  worse  than  motherless  child? 

How  distasteful  her  position  now  appeared,  and 
how  she  longed  for  Sunday  morning  when  she  again 
would  see  her  grand,  wealthy  sweetheart!  When 
they  met,  he  informed  her  that  his  mother  would 
like  to  meet  her,  requested  her  to  look  her  pretti- 
est on  the  following  Tuesday  evening,  and  to  be  at 
the  appointed  street  corner,  and  said  that  he  would 
take  her  to  his  home  and  introduce  her  to  the  one 
now  so  desirious  of  making  the  acquaintance  of 
the  girl  with  whom  he  had  fallen  so  desperately  in 
love. 

Alas,  poor  Leila !  By  another  falsehood  she  pro- 
cured permission  to  go  out.  She  was  ushered  into 
a  fine-looking  room  in  a  house  on  Mason  Street, 
and  soon  a  grandly  dressed  lady,  young  looking  to 
be  this  villian's  mother,  greeted  her  very  cordially, 
asked  many  questions,  and  then  rang  for  refresh- 
ments, which  a  Chinaman  servant  soon  carried  in 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  71 

on  a  tray — «and  when  Leila  next  awoke  it  was 
broad  daylight.  What  was  she  doing  in  this  strange 
room  ? 

It  wasn't  long  before  she  succumbed  to  all  the 
vices  and  evil  influences  governing  the  life  she  was 
now  destined  and  even  resigned  to  lead. 

About  a  year  later,  when  she  was  no  longer  of 
value  to  her  betrayers,  when  she  was  an  outcast 
whom  no  one  wanted — no  one  but  her  Savior  and 
some  of  the  consecrated  children  of  God — at  this 
time  she  was  sitting  on  a  table  in  a  "Ladies'  en- 
trance" department  of  a  saloon.  There  one  of 
God's  rescue  missionaries  so  lovingly  approached 
her  that  Leila,  longing  to  get  away  from  San  Fran- 
cisco for  fear  of  being  recognized  by  her  mother 
and  friends,  was  easily  induced  to  come  to  the 
home,  where  she  had  lived  for  several  months  when 
I  first  met  her. 

The  time  came  when  she  gave  her  heart  to  her 
Savior  and  then  followed  his  example  in  baptism. 
It  was  one  of  the  sweetest  experiences  of  my  Chris- 
tian life  to  help  prepare  her  and  some  others  that 
evening  for  this  beautiful,  sacred  ceremony.  What 
a  happy,  happy  family  returned  to  our  home  and 
retired  to  our  rest  an  hour  later! 

But  alas !  some  acquaintance  discovered  Leila's 
whereabouts  and  conveyed  the  information  to  her 
mother.     One  day,  on  coming  home  from  some  er- 


72  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

rand  of  mercy,  I  was  informed  by  the  matron, 
now  sufficiently  recovered  to  be  with  us  once  more, 
that  she  had  a  surprise  for  me,  and  she  asked  me 
to  guess.  My  first  guess  was,  "My  darling  boy  has 
come  back  to  me." 

"No;  guess  again." 

"Then  it  must  be  my  husband." 

"No;  I  am  going  to  tell  you.  Listen!  Do  you 
hear  that  loud  weeping  in  the  parlor?" 

"Yes." 

"It's  Leila's  mother.  She  is  in  a  fearful  state 
because  her  daughter  is  an  inmate  of  a  rescue  home. 
Come  in  and  help  me  to  try  to  pacify  her." 

It  was  a  difficult  task,  but  on  our  promising  to 
bring  her  daughter  in  if  she  would  be  calm,  an  ef- 
fort on  her  part  soon  proved  successful.  Soon 
mother  and  daughter  were  alone.  In  about  fifteen 
minutes  Leila  called  us,  and  in  our  presence  the 
mother  promised  that,  if  we  would  only  let  her 
dear  child  return  with  her  to  her  own  home,  under 
no  circumstances  would  she  ever  remind  her  of  the 
past  and  also  would  make  her  life  pleasanter  for 
her  in  the  future.  It  was  impossible  to  refuse. 
Leila,  with  tears  and  prayers,  soon  bade  farewell 
to  us  all. 

I  would  that  I  might  record  that  in  the  future 
it  was  well  with  her  and  her  soul,  but  alas!  I  can 
not.     One  day  her  mother,  because  of  some  trivial 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  75 

offense,  forgot  her  solemn  promise.  Poor  Leila 
flew  into  a  rage  and,  without  even  waiting  for 
her  hat,  rushed  out  of  the  house  never  to  return, 
and  once  more  the  enemy  had  her  back  in  his  terri- 
tory. Long  but  vainly  did  we  search  for  her  until 
she  was  so  far  gone  that  she  coldly  refused  all 
God's  and  our  overtures  of  mercy,  and  no  lan- 
guage of  mine  could  describe  her  awful  physical 
condition.  She  was  only  nineteen,  but  an  utter 
wreck,  morally  as  well  as  otherwise.  Her  own 
mother  would  not  now  have  been  able  to  recognize 
her. 

We  find  no  occasion  to  moralize  in  closing  this 
story.  We  know  that  your  tears  will  fall  and  that 
your  heart  will  ache,  but  oh!  be  warned,  and  warn 
others.  Full  well  do  we  who  are  rescue  workers 
know  there  are  thousands  of  cases  today  parallel 
with  this  one. 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  WITH  THE  OUTCAST.  75 

CHAPTER    VIII. 
I  BID  FAREWELL  TO  THE  SACRAMENTO  HOME. 

God's  "still,  small  voice"  bidding  me  to  prepare 
for  other  fields  of  labor  came  very  definitely  soon 
after  his  Spirit  gave  me  the  song  entitled  "The 
Messengers,"  a  song  which  has  proven  of  great 
value,  especially  in  the  prison  work.  I  informed 
the  matron,  who  insisted  upon  it  that  I  was  mis- 
taken and  deliberately  laying  down  my  cross,  but 
I  knew  better;  for  God's  Word  makes  no  mistakes, 
and  the  Spirit  always  agrees  with  that  Word, 
which  now  told  me  what  I  must  soon  prepare  for, 
saying,  "Go  out  quickly  into  the  streets  and  lanes 
of  the  city  and  bring  in  hither  the  poor  and  the 
maim,  the  halt  and  the  blind."  Luke  14:21.  It 
was  most  difiicult  to  cut  loose  from  these  dear  ones, 
but  "to  obey  is  better  than  sacrifice."  1  Sam.  15:  22. 

Requiring  a  rest,  I  took  lodging  in  my  former 
quarters,  where,  on  first  coming  to  Sacramento,  my 
son  and  I  resided,  and  there  quietly  waited  on  the 
Lord;  for  my  having  received  no  monetary  com- 
pensation whatsoever  from  am'  one  placed  me  in 
a  most  blessed  position  of  faith  and  trust,  which 
our  Father  did  not  long  permit  to  go  unrewarded. 
I  told  nobody  of  my  needs,  but  simply  asked  God 
for  the  things  needful,  which  he  sent  through  his 
children.     Soon  I  was  supplied  with  remunerative 


76  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

yrork  sufficient  for  my  immediate  requirements, 
and,  as  did  Paul  of  old,  I  "labored  with  mine  own 
hands  because  I  would  not  be  chargeable  unto  the 
brethren." 

During  those  few  days  I  was  a  regular  at- 
tendant each  evening  at  the  Peniel  Mission,  al- 
ready mentioned,  and  there  once  more  met  Brother 
and  Sister  Thurston,  who,  as  you  will  recall,  were 
using  a  gospel-wagon.  They  were  now  about  to 
respond  to  a  call  from  Woodland,  Yolo  County, 
to  open  a  mission.  Again  I  was  invited  to  join 
them.  Feeling  led  of  the  Lord,  I  accepted,  and 
soon  we  were  in  our  new  field  of  labor. 

It  was  very  precious,  very  blessed.  Erelong, 
however,  my  companions  in  the  work  received  a 
call  to  other  places,  whilst  I  received  a  definite  call 
to  remain.  That  first  evening  alone  on  the  ros- 
trum— shall  I  ever  forget  it?  All  day  I  had  been 
praying  (not  always  on  my  knees)  for  a  text  for 
my  first  public  message  or  sermon,  but  not  one  could 
I  settle  on.  Whilst  the  audience  was  gathering,  we 
sang  many  hymns.  This  was  followed  by  a  few 
voluntary  prayers;  then  came  the  embarrassing 
moment.  I  was  compelled  to  inform  the  congre- 
gation— 'and  it  was  a  large  one — '  of  my  predica- 
ment, and  besought  them  to  kneel  again  with  me 
in  brief  supplication  for  a  text.  "Praise  God  from 
whom  all  blessings  flow !"  my  Bible  fell  open,  my 


THE  MESSENGERS. 

(The  Doves.) 


r^l^ 

Words  and  Music  by  Mrs.  Florksck  Bobebts. 

-      y  i¥>±  n 

f\                                                              -L 

12 

L  "B  u  -_n 

— h [s     .^^ f^— N [^ 

_p   ■      n    1^  • 

=St^-^^-^- 

-J — J    J        ;    * 

-^J #-r— L-J 

tj 

1.  The  mes-sen-gers  tap  on  the  win-dows,         The 

2.  The  mes  -  sen  -  gers  tap  on  the  win  -  dows,         And 

3.  The  mes  -  sen  -  gers  tap  on  the  win  -  dows,  Three 

4.  The  mes  -  sen  -  gers  tap  on  the  win  -  dows;         "Be- 

5.  The  mes  -  sen  -  gers  tap  on  the  win  -  dows;  Sweet 


$ 


i 


win    -    dows 

of 

the 

soul; 

They 

beat              their 

wings     on 

the 

bars; 

They 

times             they 

come    and 

they 

go; 

Je  -  sus 

hold,                I 

free  -  ly 

for    - 

give; 

Who  -  so  - 

peace  from   our 

Sav  -  ior 

they 

bring; 

Sweet 

m 


rit. 


:t^=^ 


m 


:^=it 


^^=^ 


car  -  ry  this  news  from  our  Sav  -  ior. 
car  -  ry  the  news  to  the  sin  -  ner, 
saith,"Tho'  your  sins  be  as  scar  -  let, 
ev  -    er    will  come,  let    him    do     so, 


•'I    died  that  ye 

"You  can  be  -  come 

Trust   me,     I    will 

Par  -  take  of    sal  - 


peace  which  is    past    nn  -  der-  stand-ing,—     The    win-dows  now 
/7^   a  tempo,    rit. 


l^illj  ^'IF  r  ;  ^ 


might    be    made    whole."      "I     died    that    ye  might  be  made 
bright  as     the     stars."     "You    can     be-come  bright  as     the 
make  them  like    snow."    "Trust  me,     I     will  make  them  like 
va    -   tion   and     live."      "Par  -  take    of     sal  -  va  -  tion    and 
0    -    pen.    Ck>me  in.  The    win  -  dows  now     o  -  pen.  Come 


,ii  '^f 


^^  A  tempo,    rit. 


^t^=P^ 


I 


^^ 


whole,  I         died    that  ye  might  be  made  whole." 

stars.  You     can      be-come  bright  as    the     stars." 

snow.  Trust  me,      I    will  m^e  them  like    snow." 

Uve,  Par  -  take     of    sal  -  va  -  tion  and    live." 

in.  The    win  -  dows  now   o  -  pen.   C!ome  in. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  79 

eyes  riveted  on  these  words:  "And  immediately  the 
angel  of  the  Lord  smote  him  because  he  gave  not 
God  the  glory,  and  he  was  eaten  of  worms 
and  gave  up  the  ghost."     Acts  12:23. 

Positively  the  message  came  from  the  Lord.  As 
I  spoke  I  was  as  though  in  a  trance.  The  altar 
filled  with  seekers,  and  souls  stepped  into  that  pre- 
cious fountain  still  open  in  the  house  of  David. 
How  happy  I  was!  To  God  be  all  the  credit,  all 
the  glory. 

Amongst  the  seekers  was  one  who  presently  told 
me  that  for  forty-one  years  he  had  been  a  drunk- 
ard. He  certainly  looked  as  if  he  had — 'poor, 
bloated,  filthy,  loathsome,  ill-smelling  creature.  I 
can  not  find  adjectives  enough  to  describe  him. 
Everybody  avoided  him.  It  surely  was  a  testing 
time  for  me.  Also,  I  had  trying  experiences  there- 
after with  this  particular  soul;  for,  though  he 
certainly  found  salvation,  he  was  such  a  weakling 
that  he  was  ever  leaning  upon  the  arm  of  flesh; 
in  consequence  of  which  I  endured  much  persecu- 
tion. He  haunted  me  much  of  the  time,  morning, 
noon,  and  night,  so  that  I  was  subjected  to  un- 
kind remarks  and  ridicule;  but,  remembering  the 
words  of  our  Master  in  Matt.  5:11,  12  and  Paul's 
in  Phil.  2:7,  I  endeavored  to  bear  this  for  the 
sake  of  his  soul.  Much  later,  when  I  was  in  the 
work  in  San  Francisco,  he  took  up  his  abode  there. 


80  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

and  shortly  afterward  the  blessed  Lord  saw  fit  to 
provide  him  with  an  earthly  companion  (he  was 
a  widower),  a  most  worthy  Christian  woman,  who 
tenderly  ministered  to  his  needs  until  Father  called 
him  home,  little  more  than  a  year  following  the 
earthquake  and  fire  of  that  great  city.  Concern- 
ing that  catastrophe  he  wrote  me  as  follows: 

San  Francisco,  Potrero  Camp, 

Opp.  S.  P.  R.  R.  Depot,  Third  and  Townsend  Streets, 

April  29,  1906. 
My  dear  Sister  Roberts: 

We  are  alive  and  well.  Praise  the  Lord.  On  the 
morning-  of  the  eighteenth  we  were  roughly  thrown 
from  our  bed  by  earthquake,  and  our  house  broken  all 
to  pieces,  and  it  was  afire  before  we  were  rescued. 

Two  men  (God  bless  them!)  took  my  dear  wife  and 
me  with  ropes,  and  by  the  time  we  were  in  the 
street  the  house  was  burning-  furiously.  Two  poor 
women  on  the  lower  floor  were  burned  to  death.  We 
lost  all  we  had  except  the  clothes  we  had  on  and  our 
Bibles.  These  we  had  been  reading  the  night  before 
and  had  left  at  our  bedside.  As  we  went  out,  we  each 
took  a  Bible.  I  had  a  very  fine  collection  of  religious 
books,  some  very  valuable,  but  all  went  in  smoke;  but, 
thank  God!  he  saved  our  lives.  I  assure  you  we  have 
thanked  him   in   prayer  many   times   since  we  escaped. 

We  got  over  on  the  Potrero  and  we  had  to  sit  in  the 
hot  sun  all  day  the  eighteenth,  nineteenth,  and  twen- 
tieth, and  In  the  cold  night  wind,  and  we  had  nothing 
to  lie  down  on  nor  to  cover  us  to  keep  the  cold  out 
My  wife  asked  a  woman  to  loan  her  a  blanket  to  throw 
around  me.  She  would  not  do  it,  yet  she  had  enough 
extra  ones  for  a  dozen  people.  Finally  near  morning 
of  the  second  night  a  lieutenant  from  the  Presidio 
(regular  army)  came  along  and  saw  us  sitting  in  the 
cold,  and  asked  if  we  were  so  bad  off  as  that.  I  told 
him  yes.     He  said  he  would  see  about  that.     He  went 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  81 

and  took  a  heavy  pair  of  blankets  from  that  woman 
and  brought  them  to  us.  "We  wrapped  ourselves  up  In 
them  and  sat  down  agrain.  After  that  we  got  along 
comfortably  until  morning',  but  the  woman  took  the 
blankets  away  as  soon  as  morning  came. 

Then  we  got  into  a  Santa  Fe  car,  which  kept  us  out 
of  the  wind,  but  we  had  no  bedding.  After  two  days 
we  all  had  to  get  out  of  the  cars,  as  the  company  had 
to  send  them  to  Los  Angeles  to  load  them  with  sugar. 
Then  we  were  out  of  doors  again;  but,  praise  the  Lord! 
Mr.  John  A.  Hedges,  a  showman,  gave  us  a  comfortable 
house,  and  he  says  we  can  have  it  as  long  as  we  stay. 
His  dear  wife  gives  us  hot  coffee  and  food  every  day, 
and  good  coffee  and  food,  too. 

They  have  two  fine  boys,  sixteen  and  eighteen  years 
of  age.  The  boys  have  found  jobs  to  work  to  help 
their  father  and  mother.  There  are  hundreds  of  able- 
bodied  men  around  the  camp,  but  they  will  not  work. 
They  can  get  from  $2.00  to  $2.50  a  day,  but  they  would 
rather  live  off  the  liberality  of  others.  But  when  the 
soldiers  find  them  they  are  forced  to  work,  and  they 
get  no  pay,  only  something  to  eat.  .  .  . 

I  am  alone  in  our  little  house  today.  My  dear  one 
is  out  visiting  some  friends.  She  will  soon  be  with 
me.     Sister,   she  is  a  dear  one  to  me.     God  bless  her! 

Mr.  A.  D.  Porter,  a  banker  of  Woodland  [now  de- 
ceased], came  down  to  hunt  me  up,  and  had  a  hard 
time  to  find  us;  but  day  before  yesterday  while  looking 
around  and  asking  for  us  he  met  Mr.  Hedges,  and  he 
brought  him  to  us.  He  told  us  to  come  to  Woodland, 
and  we  could  have  rooms  without  cost.  He  is  going 
to  fit  up  rooms  with  kitchen  and  cooking  utensils,  etc., 
so  we  can  live  comfortably  and  without  charge. 

We  will  go  on  Tuesday  or  Wednesday,  first  or  second 
of  May.  He  also  pays  our  car  fare.  We  are  thankful 
to  him  for  his  kindness.  So  you  can  write  to  us  In 
Woodland. 

You  have  no  idea  how  often  my  wife  and  I  have 
said  we  wished  we  could  see  our  dear  Sister  Roberts. 
We  can  not  begin  to  say  all  we  want  to  In  a  letter. 
There    Is    so    much    to    talk    about    at    this    time.      My 


82  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

wife  g-ot  out  in  her  night  clothes.  She  did  not  have 
a  chance  to  g:et  her  hat  to  cover  her  head.  Some  of  the 
people  are  very  Icind  to  us. 

My  wife  has  got  back  to  camp  and  is  sitting  by  me 
while  I  write.  I  will  not  try  to  say  more  at  this  time. 
Good-by.  I  hope  you  had  no  trouble  at  Beth  Adriel 
[the  San  Jose  rescue  home  to  be  referred  to  here- 
after]. God  bless  you  and  your  work.  With  love  from 
Brother   and    Sister   Mosby. 

God  wonderfully  strengthened  me  and  aided  me 
to  be  faithful  to  this  aged  brother's  soul,  who 
through  that  awful  demon,  liquor,  for  years  had 
been  well-nigh  an  imbecile  when  first  we  met;  and 
I  expect  one  of  the  first  ones  to  welcome  me  when 
I  reach  the  glory-land  will  be  my  old  friend. 
Brother  Mosby. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  88 

CHAPTER  IX. 
WOODLAND    (Continued^ — A    BOYCOTT. 

One  of  the  greatest  and  most  agonizing  trials  of 
faith  and  trust  occurred  shortly  after  my  being 
placed  in  charge  of  the  Woodland  undenomina- 
tional gospel  mission.  The  test  well-nigh  pros- 
trated me.  A  letter  from  my  son,  then  in  San 
Francisco,  abruptly  broke  the  following  news: 

Dear  Mother: 

By  the  time  you  receive  this  I  shall  be  on  my 
way  to  Manilla.  It  will  be  a  good  opportunity 
for  experience,  and  to  see  the  world.  I  gro  as  an 
employee    on    board    the    "Logan."    .    .    . 

Hoping:  to  see  you  again  in  about  three  months, 
I   remain.  Tour  loving   son, 

Charlie. 

To  leave  me,  with  only  this  for  a  farewell!  "O 
God!"  I  cried,  "I  am  indeed  bereft  of  all  my 
earthly  treasures."  No  word  from  my  husband 
had  reached  me  for  many  months,  although  occa- 
sionally I  had,  through  interested  friends,  been 
able  to  locate  him.  He  never,  from  the  time  of 
my  leaving  home,  contributed  one  cent  toward  my 
support.  So  I  was  given,  as  but  few  are  given, 
a  glorious  opportunity  to  trust  daily,  hourly,  and 
prove  our  dear  heavenly  Father — 'and  he  never 
has,  nor  ever  will  be,  delinquent,  unless  I  fail  in 
my  love  and  duty. 


84  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

No  collections  were  taken  in  the  mission.  Free- 
will offerings  supported  this  work,  which  system 
gave  occasion  for  some  blessed  testings;  for  some- 
times rent-day  would  find  us  with  an  empty  treas- 
ury, together  with  God's  warning  not  to  appeal 
to  any  but  him.  My  cupboard  was  empty  at  times. 
I  prayed,  and  he  bountifully  replenished  it. 

The  first  Christmas  season  in  Woodland  was  a 
notable  one.  We  were  to  give  a  dinner  to  the  con- 
verts. Many  were  the  gifts  of  edibles.  Christ- 
mas eve  found  Sister  Simpson  and  me  very  busy 
preparing  and  cooking,  aided  by  two  prospective 
guests.  While  I  was  thus  engaged,  a  message  ar- 
rived requesting  me  to  go  quickly  to  a  certain 
street  and  cabin,  where  a  girl  lay  dying.  Carry- 
ing my  Bible  and  little  autoharp,  my  constant 
companions,  I  soon  arrived  at  the  place  desig- 
nated. 

Poor  Nell!  How  grateful  I  am  that  God  ever 
permitted  me  to  meet  you,  for  now — not  until  now 
have  you  felt  your  great  need.  We  spent  a  very 
precious,  profitable  time  in  that  mean,  forlorn  abode. 
Soon  Nell  gladly  yielded  to  Jesus;  then  whilst  I 
was  softly  singing,  "Jesus  knows  all  about  our 
struggles,"  she  went  to  sleep.  Commending  her  for 
all  time  and  eternity  to  His  loving  keeping,  I  stole 
softly  out. 

Early  on  Christmas  morning  word  arrived  that 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  85 

Nell  had  never  awakened,  but  had  passed  quietly 
away,  shortly  after  midnight.  Hers  was  the  first 
funeral  service  at  which  I  officiated.  It  was  well 
attended.  Instead  of  eulogizing  the  dead,  as  is 
common  on  such  occasions,  I  delivered,  for  the 
blessed  Master,  a  precious  fruit-bearing  message  to 
the  living.     Hallelujah! 

The  passing  of  Nell  did  not  prevent  our  having 
a  happy  Christmas.  All  my  guests,  save  two  sis- 
ters, who  were  gospel  workers,  were  wonderfully 
redeemed,  blood- washed  men  and  boys.  After  all 
of  us  had  enjoyed  to  our  hearts'  content  the  good 
things  to  eat,  we  lingered  round  the  table  relating 
one  experience  after  the  other.  Some  of  the  boys 
had  been  in  prison  time  and  again,  and  they  re- 
hearsed some  of  their  escapades  whilst  serving 
the  devil.  All  agreed  that  the  primary  cause  of 
their  downfall  was  disobedience  to  parents  or 
guardians  when  very  young,  a  continuation  of  this 
in  youth,  then  the  tobacco  and  liquor  habits  in  con- 
nection with  disobedience.  Then,  nothing  but  sor- 
row; now,  nothing  but  peace  and  joy  if  they  would 
only  remain  true  to  our  wonderful  Redeemer. 
Doubtless  most  of  my  readers  have  never  attended 
such  a  dinner  party.  Let  me  tell  you  something. 
We  had  for  our  guest — the  King.  To  be  sure,  we 
did  not  see  him  with  these  fleshly  eyes,  but  the 
spiritual  vision  wonderfully  revealed  his  presence. 


86  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

beyond  a  doubt,  to  each  of  us.  It  was  a  "feasting 
with  my  Lord." 

In  the  days  gone  by,  before  becoming  acquainted 
with  my  Savior,  I  had  both  entertained  and  been 
entertained  sumptuously;  but  never,  never  had  I 
so  enjoyed  a  banquet,  never  had  I  been  more  happy 
than  with  these  guests. 

In  the  summer-time  of  that  year  following  these 
occurrences  we  were  boycotted.  Strange  and  va- 
rious worldly  procedures  for  the  raising  of  money 
in  the  different  churches  were  causing  much  com- 
ment. The  matter  reached  my  ears,  and,  like 
Jeremiah  and  some  of  the  other  prophets  of  old, 
I  proceeded  to  tell  Father  what  a  stumbling-block 
this  was  to  both  sinner  and  saint  and  how  it  grieved 
my  soul,  and  besought  him  to  warn  them. 

He  gave  me  answer  from  Isaiah,  sixth  chapter. 
(Please  read  it.)  He  spoke  to  my  soul  in  the 
night,  saying,  "Thus  saith  the  Lord,  Say  unto 
these  people.  Thou  shalt  read,  mark,  learn,  and 
inwardly  digest,  Ezekiel,  third  and  fourth  chap- 
ters, also  Matthew,  sixth  chapter,  twenty-fourth 
verse."  He  brought  Isa.  6 :  6-8  so  before  my  men- 
tal vision  that  I  lay  on  my  bed  trembling  from 
head  to  foot. 

A  union  prayer  service,  the  last  of  the  season, 
was  to  take  place  in  one  of  the  churches  on  the 
following  Wednesday  evening.    I  was  impressed  on 


WITH   THE    OUTCAST.  87 

Tuesday  to  announce  to  the  mission  audience  that 
we  should  on  that  occasion  attend  this  union  service. 
I  made  no  mention  to  them  of  the  message  the 
Lord  was  trusting  me  to  give,  nor  did  I  know  how 
he  wovdd  have  it  delivered.  My  soul  was  heavily 
burdened,  and  a  great  fear  took  possession  of  me, 
as  I  entered  the  basement  of  that  church,  which 
was  soon  filled  with  members  and  pastors  repre- 
senting the  various  denominations,  also  many  of 
the  mission  attendants.  The  subject  I  well  re- 
member— ''The  Forgiving  Spirit."  It  was  beau- 
tifully discussed  and  handled,  causing  me  to  think 
that  under  these  circumstances  the  Lord  would 
possibly  excuse  me.  In  order  to  find  out,  I  rev- 
erently opened  my  Bible,  My  eyes  fell  on  one 
word  in  big  capitals — "JONAH."  Oh!  I  must 
obey;  but  how.-*  I  waited  and  watched.  Soon 
came  a  call  for  voluntary  prayer,  and  I  received 
my  cue  when  Brother  Smith  of  the  Seventh-day 
Adventists  prayed.  Testimony  was  next  in  order. 
Following  one  or  two  brief  testimonies,  I  me- 
chanically arose,  and  gave  out  the  message  just  as 
it  had  come  to  me  from  the  Lord,  and  then  sat 
down — -a  great  burden  now  off  my  soul.  Painful 
silence  followed,  but  finally  a  brother  (Sunday- 
school  teacher)  arose.  "Let  us  see  what  this 
means,"  he  said.  "I  will  read  Ezekiel  3";  and  he 
proceeded  to  read.    Then  a  brother  on  the  opposite 


88  FIFTEEN  YEARS 


side  spoke — "I  will  read  Ezekiel  4."  Pastor  M- 


next  said,  "And  I  will  read  Matt.  6 :  24,  after  which 
we  will  proceed  with  our  testimonies."  But  they 
did  not.  They  could  not.  After  a  long  silence  only 
one  arose.  She  gave  an  honest  answer,  promising 
God  never  so  to  offend  him  in  the  future. 

On  my  way  home  Satan  said  to  me,  "Now  you're 
in  for  it."  Sure  enough.  I  comforted  myself  by 
audibly  singing  as  I  walked  along,  "Jesus  Lover 
of  My  Soul."  Maybe  you  think  I  was  frightened 
and  miserable.  Not  so.  I  could  not  have  been 
happier ;  for  the  load  was  lifted,  my  conscience  was 
clear. 

On  the  following  Monday  evening  we  expected 
one  of  the  pastors,  by  previous  appointment,  to 
preach  in  the  mission.  We  waited.  He  never 
came.  I  was  sent  for  to  come  to  his  parsonage 
the  following  morning,  and  there  I  learned  this: 
"At  a  special  ministerial  meeting,  which  took  place 
on  Monday  morning,  the  Woodland  pastors  took 
action  with  regard  to  the  attitude  assumed  toward 
the  churches  by  the  woman,  Mrs.  Florence  Roberts, 
now  in  charge  of  the  City  Gospel  Mission.  A  mo- 
tion was  made,  seconded,  and  unanimously  adopted 
to  boycott  said  mission  and  said  worker." 

Was  the  mission  thereafter  a  failure  ?  No,  praise 
the  Lord!  It  prospered,  and  it  still  prospers  in 
the  hands  of  the  various  workers  the  Master  sends 


_.WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  89 

from  time  to  time.  He  kept  me  there  three  years, 
and  never  did  I  lack  for  the  things  needftd.  In 
that  time  was  I  absent  twice  for  short  periods,  but 
the  mission  nightly  continued  its  precious  office 
work  under  the  guidance  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  WITH  THE  OUTCAST.  91 

CHAPTER    X. 

A    BRIEF  CALL  TO  SACRAMENTO — I    ENTER 
THE    SAN    FRANCISCO    FIELD. 

Both  those  periods  of  absence  were  occasioned 
by  the  return  of  my  son,  who  now  had  made  two 
trips  to  and  from  the  Philippines.  After  the 
second  one  he  decided  to  return  to  Sacramento, 
if  I  would  make  a  little  home  for  him.  His  stay 
was  of  but  a  few  months'  duration  notwithstand- 
ing our  cozy,  comfortable  quarters,  for  the  spirit 
of  roving  still  possessed  him,  and  erelong  he 
shipped  as  an  employee  on  one  of  the  large  pas- 
senger steamers  bound  for  Australia.  Then,  at 
the  repeated  requests  of  many,  I  returned  to  Wood- 
land, from  which  place  I  eventually  accepted  a 
call  to  the  rescue  work  in  San  Francisco.  There 
I  made  my  home  with  Sister  Kauffman,  whose 
name  and  calling  has  already  been  briefly  men- 
tioned. For  a  long  time  we  worked  together  for 
the  inmates  of  The  Home  of  Peace,  and  each 
Sunday  morning  at  9 :  30  o'clock  I,  with  other 
Christians,  could  be  found  at  the  county  jail.  No. 
3,  adjacent  to  the  Ingleside  district  and  about 
three  and  one-half  miles  distant  from  the  city  cen- 
ter. Of  this  branch  of  the  work  we  will  speak 
hereafter. 

The  duties  and  the  expenses  of  the  San  Fran- 


92  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

Cisco  home  were  great;  for  there  was  always  a 
large  family,  most  of  whom,  on  coming,  were 
destitute  of  decent  apparel,  and,  with  scarcely  an 
exception,  all  needed  physical  treatment,  some 
permanently,  so  that  we  toiled  incessantly  either 
in  the  sewing-room,  the  sick-room,  or  the  nur- 
sery, where  were  several  dear  little  babies.  Who 
does  not  love  a  baby?  You  can  not  imagine  how 
attached  we  were  to  them,  soon  forgetting  their 
unfortunate  advent,  and  doing  what  we  could  to 
instruct  and  aid  their  untutored  young  mothers. 
The  feeding  of  the  family  was  alone  often  a 
problem  (I  mean  as  to  the  source),  so  that  we 
had  to  be  very  much  in  the  spirit  of  prayer. 

Sometimes  our  Father  would  see  fit  to  test  us 
to  the  limit,  for  instance:  Shortly  after  my  com- 
ing, the  one  in  charge  of  food  supplies  said,  "Sis- 
ter Kauffman,  we  are  out  of  everything.  There 
is  only  enough  for  today,  and  perhaps  tomor- 
row morning's  breakfast."  The  worker  whose 
business  it  was  to  visit  The  Mission  merchants  for 
any  donations  of  food,  etc.  came  home  late  that 
afternoon  with  but  meager  results  for  her  day's 
hard  labor.  In  the  morning,  following  earnest 
prayer  with  the  family  gathered  around  that  poorly 
supplied  breakfast  table.  Sister  Kauffman  and  I 
started  out  to  plead  for  absolute  necessities.  All 
without  exception  commended  this  laudable  work 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  96 

for  the  wandering  girls,  but  oh!  the  excuses.  To 
this  day  I  am  amazed  at  many  of  them.  In  one 
office  was  a  portly,  good-natured-looking  gentle- 
man puffiing  away  at  an  expensive  cigar.  (Reader, 
there  was  a  time  in  my  life  when  I  enjoyed  the 
fragrance  of  a  good  one,  for  my  husband  was  a 
smoker.)  He  declared  that  he  could  not  afford 
to  assist  one  cent's  worth,  that  he  was  too  poor. 
I  dared  to  inquire  gently  how  many  cigars  he 
smoked  daily  and  if  they  were  not  at  least  twenty- 
five  cents  for  two.  "Worse  than  that,"  he  proudly 
replied;  "twenty  cents  apiece.  But  I  only  smoke 
half  a  dozen  a  day  at  the  most.  I'm  not  an  in- 
veterate smoker;  besides,  it's  my  only  bad  habit." 
When  I  told  him  that  the  cost  of  one  day's  smok- 
ing would  feed  all  our  hungry  family  with  a  sub- 
stantial meal,  he  turned  his  back  and  began  to 
get  busy  at  his  desk,  and  thus  we  considered  our- 
selves dismissed.  There  was  excuse  after  excuse, 
refusal  after  refusal,  principally  on  the  plea  of 
there  being  so  many  appeals  for  charity  equally 
worthy  and  only  a  limitless  pocket-book  being 
requisite  to  meet  the  many  demands. 

Noon-time  discovered  us  in  front  of  the  Call 
building,  corner  of  Market  and  Third  Streets,  both 
of  us  faint,  weary,  hungry,  and  slightly  discour- 
aged, yet  still  hopeful.  We  stood  on  the  street 
corner    for   a    few   minutes    holding   each    other's 


94  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

hands,  and,  unknown  to  the  passers-by,  praying 
for  strength  of  body  and  soul,  imploring  our  heav- 
enly Father  to  renew  our  faith  and  courage.  After 
resting  a  little  while  on  one  of  the  stone  seats 
near  Lotta's  Fountain,  we  once  more  began  to 
toil  up  office  stairs  or  ride  in  elevators.  At  four 
o'clock  we  were  near  the  city  front  in  the  whole- 
sale district.  Still  our  faith  was  being  tested,  for 
most  of  those  from  whom  we  had  expected  help 
had  either  gone  for  the  day  or  were  absent  from 
some  other  cause.     At  last   I   weakened. 

"Sister  Kauffman,  I  can  stand  this  awful  strain 
no  longer,"  I  said.  "Perhaps  God  has  sent  in 
food  to  the  girls  during  our  absence.  Let  us  try 
to  get  back  home."  We  could  not  telephone.  That 
would  mean  a  nickel,  and  we  didn't  have  it.  "Onct 
more,  dear,  once  more  we'll  try,"  replied  cour- 
ageous Sister  Kauffman.  So  we  ascended  a  long 
flight  of  stairs,  only  to  find  the  door  fast  locked. 
Bless  her  noble  soul!  she  was  just  as  tired,  weak, 
and  hungry  as  I,  but  infinitely  less  selfish. 

As  we  came  out  on  the  sidewalk,  she  suddenly 
remembered  one  who  had  some  time  previously 
promised  help  whenever  she  happened  in  that  vi- 
cinity again.  It  was  but  half  a  block  distant.  Thither 
we  dragged  our  weary  bodies.  When  we  reached 
the  top  of  that  stairway,  a  gentleman  was  just  in 
the   act   of   locking   a   door.      His    greeting   was: 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  95 

"Well,  well.  Sister  Kauffman,  how  do  you  do,  and 
how  are  all  your  family?  You're  just  in  time. 
I  was  about  to  go  home.  Glad  to  make  your  ac- 
quaintance. Sister  Roberts.  Ladies,  come  in  a 
moment  and  rest  after  your  hard  climb."  He 
handed  a  piece  of  money  (five  dollars)  to  Sister 
Kauffman,  remarking  as  he  did  so  that  he  had  been 
saving  it  for  her  several  days. 

Then  something  happened — .something  totally 
unlooked  for  by  any  of  us  three.  Sister  Kauff- 
man  and  I  burst  into  tears  and  wept  unrestrainedly 
for  several  minutes,  whilst  the  kind  friend  retired, 
I  suppose,  to  a  remote  corner  of  the  large  room. 
Presently,  when  we  had  become  somewhat  calm, 
we  told  him  what  we  had  endured  since  early 
morning.  It  was  not  at  all  strange  (now  was  it?) 
that  this  good-hearted  man,  during  our  short  re- 
cital, resorted  to  frequent  use  of  his  handkerchief. 
But  it  was  now  fast  growing  dark,  and  we  had  to 
hurry. 

Many  samples  of  canned  goods  were  upon  the 
shelves.  (This  was  a  wholesale  commission 
merchant's  office.)  He  filled  my  net  shopping-bag, 
made  up  another  package,  then  forth  we  went  with 
smiling  faces  and  happy  hearts.  Presently  he 
helped  us  on  to  our  car,  then  left  us.  "Oh !  Sister 
Roberts  dear,  we'll  have  to  break  our  five  dollars 
to  pay  our  car  fare,"  said  Sister  KaufFman.    When 


96  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

the  conductor  came  our  way  and  she  inquired 
whether  he  had  change  for  five,  he  answered,  "Your 
fares  are  paid."  God  bless  that  noble-hearted, 
thoughtful  gentleman.  I  do  not  remember  his 
name,  but  I  do  hope  he  will  read  or  hear  of  this. 
Whether  he  does  or  not,  the  generous  deed  is,  I 
feel  sure,  recorded  to  his  credit  in  heaven. 

When  we  turned  the  corner  of  our  street,  some 
of  the  family,  disregarding  the  rules,  rushed  out 
to  greet  us  and  to  help  us  in  with  our  load.  Soon 
our  five  dollars  was  purchasing  bread,  potatoes, 
and  other  things  for  an  immediate  meal,  to  which 
we  all  quickly  sat  down,  and,  after  reverently 
thanking  our  heavenly  Father  ate — shall  I  say.'' — 
yes,  ravenously. 

Reader,  do  not  imagine  this  as  being  a  common 
every-day  experience.  By  no  means,  although  we 
were  ever  subject  to  tests  in  one  form  or  an- 
other. This  taught  us  to  pray  more,  and  not 
to  labor  quite  so  hard — an  excellent  and  profitable 
lesson;  also,  to  pray  God  to  reprove  those  who, 
though  well  able  to  help,  had  refused.  "For  inas- 
much as  ye  did  it  not  to  one  of  the  least  of  these,  ye 
did  it  not  to  me."     Matt.  25 :  45. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  ©7 

CHAPTER   XI. 

I    AM    INTRODUCED    TO    THE    DIVES   OF 
BARBARY    COAST. 

Sister  Kauffman  was  well  acquainted  with  th« 
dives  of  Barbary  Coast,  she  having  occasionally 
to  seek  some  one  inquired  for,  or  perhaps  a  lost 
member  of  the  family  returned  to  former  haunts 
of  sin.  The  next  time  she  had  occasion  to  go, 
I  requested  that  I  might  accompany  her.  She 
very  gladly  consented. 

At  nine  o'clock  that  night  we  were  in  a  hor- 
rible neighborhood.  I  had  a  tight  grip  on  her  arm, 
and  no  wonder,  for  we  were  now  where  every  vice 
and  crime  were  common  and  reigned  supreme. 

Plainly  do  I  still  see  the  first  place  we  entered. 
It  was  called  "The  Klondyke."  "Come,  sister, 
don't  be  afraid:  God  is  watching  over  us,"  whis- 
pered Sister  Kauffman  as  she  walked  me  through 
a  screen  door  and  into  that  gaudy,  low  barroom, 
where  were  congregated  a  most  deplorable  mix- 
ture of  degraded  men  and  youth  in  various  stages 
of  inebriety.  The  place  reeked  with  the  vile  odors 
of  whiskey,  beer,  tobacco,  uncleanliness  of  body, 
etc.,  so  that  my  stomach  revolted,  and  I  felt  as  if 
I  should  be  compelled  to  return  to  the  fresh  air; 
but  Sister  Kauffman,  who  had  obtained  permis- 
sion from  the  proprietor   (tending  bar),  took  me 


98  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

through  another  doorway,  which  led  into  a  dance- 
hall.  Positively  I  was  as  though  rooted  to  the 
spot,  and  I  said  to  myself,  "This  is  even  worse 
than  anything  of  which  I  read  or  hear."  I  do  not 
dare  to  describe  the  situation;  for  I  know  that 
young  people  are  going  to  read  this  book  and  I 
have  not  the  least  inclination  to  sully  their  minds. 
Suffice  it  to  say,  I  was  looking  upon  a  shameful 
scene  of  total  depravity  participated  in  by  both 
sexes,  some  of  whom  were  little  more  than  in  their 
teens. 

An  intoxicated  girl  sidled  up  to  me.  How  sick- 
ening was  that  vile  breath  in  my  face  as  she  said, 
"Say,  what  yer  got  in  that  case?"  It  was  my  auto- 
harp.  "Sing  something  for  her.  Sister  Roberts," 
said  Sister  Kauffman,  at  the  same  time  drawing 
the  girl  and  me  into  a  remote  corner.  I  sent  up 
to  the  throne  of  grace  a  quick,  silent  petition,  and 
the  answer  immediately  returned,  for  strength 
came.  Taking  my  little  instrument  in  my  arms, 
I  commenced,  with  shaky  voice,  the  song  that  you 
will  find  between  these  pages  entitled,  "Her  Voice." 
"Don't,  oh!  don't!  Oh!  for  God's  sake  don't!" 
sobbed  and  shrieked  that  poor  wanderer  as  she 
threw  herself  upon  me  and  buried  her  head,  with 
its  tawdry  covering  and  matted  mop  of  dirty  hair, 
in  my  lap. 

This  drew  the   attention  of  the  dancers,  caus- 


& 


Andante.  P 


HER  VOICE. 

Words  and  Music  by  Mrs.  Flohknoi  Bobxetb. 


^ 


^ 


1.  Hark!     I    hear  the  sweet -est    mu 

2.  Once       a  -  gain      I     hear  sweet  voi 

3.  Years  have  passed  since  they  have  left 


sic 

Float 

-  ing 

ces 

I've 

not 

us, 

Still 

the 

^ 


round  me  o'er   and    o'er,        Such      a     min-gling   of    sweet 
heard  for  man  -  y     years.      Join  -  ing     in    the  heav'n  -  ly 
ten  -  der  mem  -  o  -    ry  Of    these  sing-  ing  saint  -  ed 


^ 


fs — N 


i 


m 


Si 


* 


Toi   -   ces, 

Sing 

cho  -  rus; 

And 

loved   ones 

Lin  - 

-  ing    as    in   days   of   yore;        And      I 
my  eyes  are  filled  with  tears.         As       I 
gers  round  my  heart  to  -  day.         Now    I'm 


^ 


fv-^ 


gCCJ'^'IrH 


jZ- 


f  eel  such  peace  and  glad-ness    Steal  -  ing  o'er  me  ten-der  -  ly, 
hear  my  saint-ed  moth  -  er.    With  the  loved  ones  free  from  care, 
wait-ing  and  I'm  lis  -  t'ning   For  the  one  that  I   love  best. 


i 


^ 


m 


w 


iti: 


As  I  hear  my  moth  -  er  sing  -  ing,  "Je  -  sus 
Sing  a  -  gain  as  in  my  child  •  hood.  Of  no 
Je   -   sus,   bid -ding    me     to      blend      My       voice      in 


a^^-juj^^ij  j!  j._ ;.  ^[jEj^ 


loves  me,  e  -  ven  me." 
sor  -  row  o  -  ver  there; 
sing  -  ing  with  the   blest; 


loves  me,  e  -  ven  me." 
sor -row  o  -  ver  there, 
sing -ing  with  the    blest. 


Her  Voice— Concluded. 

Refrain.  1st  Verse. 


sa 


W    P    0 


tor 


f; 


^-#- 


«: 


=N=N=Ni=JC 


^i^^^ 


:& 


aLa: 


:S=f==t: 


"I  am  so  glad  that  Jesus  loves  me,  Je-sus  loves  e  -  ven  me." 
Refbain.  2d  Verse. 


St 


:t^ 


m 


m 


IT'  H  *•  l[L_^ 


itfc 


'There'll   be     no  more  sor  -  row  there,  There'll  be    no  more 


M 


3BE 


i2zzi 


-^ — Ui- 


row  there;      In       heav  -  en     a  -   bove,      where 


m 


rr^rr^l^ 


4==?: 


aU 


is      love,  There'll  be     no  more    sor  -  row  there." 


Refrain.  3d  Verse. 


^E 


-O- 


P 


#-^ 


'In 


the      sweet       bye       and      bye 


We       shaU 


^ 


s 


=1!^^ 


-0—0-^ 


t= 


meet    on   that  beau  -  ti  -  ful  shore;    In    the  sweet   bye  and 


^ 


I 


H«=5^ 


^3 


S&z:^ 


bye,       We    shall  meet     on     that  beau  -  ti    -  ful  shore." 


WITH   THE   OUTCAST.  108 

ing  a  temporary  halt.  One  of  her  companions 
tried  to  pacify  her  and  to  draw  her  away,  but 
she  resisted  and  only  climg  the  closer.  I  forgot 
the  awful  surroundings  as  my  heart  went  out  in 
tender  est  pity.  Placing  my  hand  on  her  shoulder, 
I  offered  soothing  words  and  inquired  if  I  could 
help  her,  if  I  could  comfort  her.  Presently  she 
said:  "Lady,  God  must  have  sent  you  here  to- 
night. I'm  sober  now;  I  was  drtmk  when  you 
came  in.  I  want  to  let  you  know  my  mother  is 
dead."  How  she  sobbed!  The  dancing  was  re- 
sumed, whilst  the  girl,  somewhat  recovered,  con- 
tinued her  story.  "She  only  left  me  a  year  ago. 
She  was  a  good  Christian,  my  mother  was;  and 
just  before  she  died,  she  sent  everybody  out  of 
the  room  so  as  to  have  a  talk  with  me.  'Hazel,' 
she  said,  'You've  given  me  a  heap  of  trouble  and 
anxiety,  but  I  forgive  you,  dear,  I  forgive  you. 
Now  kiss  Mother,  and  promise  to  be  a  better  girl. 
I've  been  praying  many  a  long  day  for  you,  my 
child.  I'm  going  to  leave  you.  The  doctor  says 
I  may  not  see  morning.  Don't  cry,  dear.  Don't 
cry.'  .  .  .  And  then  she  prayed  aloud.  'O  God! 
make  my  naughty  girl  a  good  girl.  Save  her  soul, 
O  Go9,  and  may  I  some  day  meet  her  in  heaven. 
Please,  God,  for  the  dear  Savior's  sake.  Amen.' 
.  .  .  Just  look  how  I've  kept  my  word!  What's 
your  name,  lady.?" 


104  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

"You  may  call  me  Mother  Roberts,  dear,  and, 
furthermore,  you  may  come  with  me  and  that  other 
lady  over  there,  to  our  home  if  you  wish." 

Before  we  left  that  place,  and  between  dances, 
a  man  sitting  in  drunken  stupor  on  a  bench  sud- 
denly tilted  back  his  hat,  stared  at  me^  and  ac- 
costed me  thus: 

"Howdy-do,  Mother  Roberts." 

"My!  who  is  this  that  recognizes  me  in  such  a 
den?"  I  questioned  myself.  "Who  are  you,  my 
man,  and  where  have  we  met?"  I  inquired.  Im- 
agine my  chagrin  at  his  replying: 

"In  the  jail  at  Sacramento." 

"How  awful!  What  will  these  people  think — 
that  I  am  an  ex-jail  bird?"  Such  were  the  thoughts 
that  were  rvmning  through  my  mind. 

"Yep;  you  gave  me  a  speel  there,  and  I  don't 
forget  it.  Say,  kids,  this  'ere  woman's  all  right. 
I  wish  I'd  a  minded  wot  she  said,  'n  I  wouldn't 
be  'ere  ter  night." 

Hearing  these  last  words.  Sister  Kauffman,  who 
had  been  busy  dealing  with  many  souls  all  of  this 
time,  said: 

"If  you  mean  that,  come  with  Mother  Roberts 
and  me  down  to  the  mission,  a  block  away.*  The 
dear  young  men  workers  there  will  be  only  too 
glad  to  help  you." 

Then  we  immediately  wended  our  way  out,   I 


WITH    THTE    OUTCAST.  105 

with  my  precious  autoharp  under  one  arm  and 
the  infinitely  more  precious  human  treasure's  arm 
tucked  safely  under  my  other.  We  soon  reached 
the  humble  mission,  left  the  man  in  safe  keep- 
ing, and  took  a  homeward-bound  car,  retiring  about 
2  A.  M.,  grateful  and  almost  too  happy  to  sleep. 

Hazel  stayed  with  us  some  time  and  then  ob- 
tained a  permanent  situation  in  a  Christian  family 
as  their  trusted  domestic. 

The  ice,  now  broken,  soon  thawed,  and  night 
after  night  two  or  three  of  us  workers  went  to  the 
slums,  dance-halls,  and  dives,  endeavoring  to  res- 
cue some  mother's  wandering  boy  or  girl.  Did  we 
always  succeed.^  By  no  means.  Often  the  small 
hours  of  the  morning  found  us  wending  our  way 
homeward  weary  and  disappointed,  but  never 
greatly  discouraged.  At  the  least,  we  sowed  the 
precious  seed,  claiming  God's  promise  in  Isa.  55:  11 
as  we  did  so. 

Many  a  time  I  have  seen  a  girl  quickly  tuck 
away  in  the  bosom  of  her  dress  some  little  tract 
(we  always  were  well  supplied),  perhaps  bear- 
ing these  words.  "Jesus  the  Savior  loves  you,  and 
sent  me  to  tell  you  so";  for  not  always,  by  any 
means,  would  the  proprietors  or  proprietresses 
permit  us  to  converse  with  their  victims.  Some- 
times we  were  so  fortunate  as  to  procure  a  girl's 
lodging-house  address;  then  we  had  the  gratifica- 


106  FIFTEEN    YEABS 

tion  of  calling  there  in  the  daytime  and  privately 
dealing  with  her,  always  with  more  or  less  good 
results.  On  such  visits  I  took  the  autoharp;  for 
singing  is  a  great,  indeed  I  may  say,  an  invaluable 
aid  in  this  work. 

On  one  occasion,  when  three  of  us  were  seeking 
the  lost,  making  saloon  to  saloon,  dance-hall  to 
dance-hall  visits,  we  went  into  a  place  where  my  at- 
tention was  immediately  drawn  to  a  beautiful, 
modest-looking  young  lady  (about  seventeen  years 
old)  standing  alongside  of  a  gorgeous  bar  and 
trying  to  repel  the  advances  of  a  pompous,  sporty- 
looking  middle-aged  man.  The  man  behind  the 
bar  was  frowning  and  saying  to  her,  "Here,  none 
of  those  monkey-shines,  miss.  You  tend  to  busi- 
ness. D'  you  hear?"  Sister  Kauffman  and  the 
other  worker  had  gone  into  the  dance-hall  in  the 
rear.  Quickly  stepping  up  to  the  girl,  I  in- 
quired of  her  what  he  meant,  what  so  young  and 
modest  a  girl  was  doing  there,  and  whether  she  did 
not  desire  to  leave,  and  implored  her  to  let  me 
aid  in  rescuing  her  from  her  wretched  life.  Quickly 
she  told  me  that  she  was  motherless  and  also  that 
she  had  been  home  from  an  Eastern  school  only 
about  twenty-four  days.  "My  child,  what  has  hap- 
pened that  you  are  here?"  I  inquired,  astonished 
beyond  measure.  Before  she  could  reply  the  big 
blonde  man  tending  bar  said: 


THE    dive-keeper's    DAUGHTEK. 


107 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  107 

"Here  you"  (addressing  me),  "make  yourself 
scarce.  You  and  your  kind  are  — ■ ■ —  koo- 
doos to  our  business." 

"Please,  please  go,"  the  girl  pleaded. 

Just  at  this  juncture  Sister  Kauffman  and  her 
lady  companion  came  through  the  dance-hall  double 
doors.  The  latter  held  them  wide  open  and  in  her 
loud,  penetrating  voice  slowly  uttered  these  words: 

"What  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  gain  the  whole 
world  and  lose  his  own  soul?  or  what  shall  a 
man  give  in  exchange  for  his  soul.''"  .  .  . 

"Come,  Sister  Roberts." 

"Yes,  in  a  minute,"  I  replied  as  I  motioned  to 
them  I  would  join  them  outside. 

"I  will  not  leave,"  I  said  to  the  girl,  "unless 
you  give  me  some  good  reason  for  not  accom- 
panying me,  seeing  you  express  a  desire  to  be 
rescued." 

" — • — '  !"   shouted  the  man,   "if  you 

don't  clear  right  out,  I'll  brain  you."  He  held 
suspended  in  the  air  a  full  soda-water  bottle, 
one  of  the  heaviest. 

The  girl,  pushing  me  away  from  her,  said,  "Go ! 
go!     He'll  do  it."     And  then  she  whispered: 

"He's  my  father." 

I  rushed  out,  excitedly  informed  my  compan- 
ions, and  then  quickly  sought  a  policeman,  who, 
when  I  informed  him,  simply  shrugged  his  shoul- 


108  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

ders  and  remarked:  "I  can't  interfere.  The  man 
has  a  license,  his  daughter  isn't  of  age,  he's  her 
legal  guardian.  Don't  know  what  you  can  do 
about  it;  you'll  have  to  consult  higher  authority 
than  me" — la  course  which  we  proceeded  to  follow 
in  the  morning. 

In  the  evening  we  visited  that  same  place,  ac- 
companied by  an  officer  in  private  clothes.  A 
large,  showy  woman  and  also  a  bar-tender  stood 
behind  the  bar.  "Are  you  the  party  what  was 
here  last  night  trying  to  make  trouble?"  she  in- 
quired. "Well,  you're  left.  The  bird  has  flown. 
Ha!  ha!  I'm  running  this  place  now,  and  I  don't 
need  your  help,  neither.  Don't  you  come  here 
while  I'm  in  charge  of  it,"  etc.  Evidently,  the 
policeman  first  accosted  had  given  the  alarm.  I 
have  never  heard  what  became  of  that  poor  girl 
and  her  wicked,  unnatural  father.  A  tender- 
hearted woman  in  that  awful  neighborhood,  one 
who  had  tried  to  protect  her,  told  me  this: 

The  girl's  mother  died  when  she  was  a  babe. 
The  father  (not  then  a  saloon  man)  sent  her  to 
New  York  to  be  raised  by  her  aunt.  When  old 
enough  she  was  placed  in  school.  The  aunt  died. 
She  was  removed  to  another  school,  and  there  she 
remained  until  called  for  by  her  father,  who  all 
these  years  had  been  her  provider.  He  brought 
her  to  San  Francisco,  where  he  now  kept  a  dive 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  109 

and  dance-hall.  She  being  a  rather  timid  girl,  it 
can  be  readily  understood  why  she  submitted  to  his 
authority  and  tyranny. 

My  mind  now  reverts  to  two  of  the  soldier 
boys,  returned  from  the  Philippines  and  seated 
one  night  in  one  of  those  places  where  we  were 
permitted  to  work  and  also  to  sing.  Toward  the 
close  of  the  song, 

Can  a  boy  forget  his  mother's  prayer, 
When  he  has  wandered  God  knows  where? 

I  discovered  them  with  their  arms  about  each 
other's  shoulders  and  both  with  the  tears  silently 
coursing  down  their  cheeks.  Setting  my  instru- 
ment on  one  side  and  remembering  my  own  dear 
son,  the  daily  object  of  my  prayers,  I  essayed, 
in  earnest,  gentle  tones,  to  admonish  them.  Both 
acknowledged  having  been  carefully  reared  by 
Christian  mothers,  one  of  whom  was  dead.  Had 
they  been  my  own,  I  could  not  have  more  earn- 
estly pleaded  with  them.  In  consequence  of  my 
admonition  they  soon  took  their  departure,  prom- 
ising as  they  did  so  never  again  to  cross  the 
threshold  of  any  place  where  they  would  be 
ashamed  to  have  their  mothers  find  them,  and 
also  to  seek  once  more  their  neglected  Savior.  Both 
were  soon  reclaimed;  for  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
meeting  them  later  in  a  house  of  worship  on  the 
Army's  camp-grounds,  at  the  Presidio. 


no  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

Christian  parents,  you  that  through  death  or 
other  means  have  been  deprived  of  the  compan- 
ionship of  your  children,  why  not  occasionally  join 
some  of  the  rescue  workers  in  their  efforts  to  save 
somebody's  wandering  boy  or  girl,  instead  of  sit- 
ting in  a  rocking-chair,  nursing  your  sorrows? 
Speak  the  kindly,  loving  word  of  warning  or  ad- 
vice; encourage  the  wayward  son  or  daughter  to 
reform;  and  thus  better  your  condition  as  well 
as  theirs.  This  will  surely  bring  an  indescribable 
peace  and  satisfaction  to  the  soul,  assuage  much 
grief,  and  help  to  promote  the  Master's  king- 
dom.    He  takes  us  at  our  word.     We  sing: 

I'll  g:o  where  you  want  me  to  go,  dear  Lord. 

Over  mountain,  or  plain,  or  sea, 
I'll  say  what  you  want  me  to  say,  dear  Lord, 

I'll  be  what  you  want  me  to  be. 

Do  we  mean  it? 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  Ill 

CHAPTER    XII. 
MARY. 

Of  all  the  pathetic  stories  from  members  of  our 
family,  I  deem  Mary's  far  in  excess  of  others, 
though  all,  without  exception,  are  woefully  sad, 
God  knows. 

One  day  a  telephone  call  came  to  us  from  the 
city  and  county  hospital,  situated  in  a  suburb 
known  as  The  Potrero,  inquiring  if  we  had  room 
for  a  delicate  young  mother  with  her  three-weeks- 
old  babe.  They  informed  us  that  her  time  as  a 
patient  had  expired  and,  moreover,  that  they  had 
just  been  quarantined  for  smallpox,  but  that  she 
had  as  yet  suffered  no  exposure.  The  workers 
were  quickly  consulted,  also  a  few  trusted  con- 
verted girls,  and  together  we  knelt  in  prayer  and 
then  consulted  God's  Word.  Praise  his  name!  we 
opened  it  on  the  ninety-first  Psalm.  What  bet- 
ter assurance  than  in  verses  10,  11,  and  12? 

Soon  we  were  welcoming  one  of  the  most  for- 
lorn specimens  of  humanity  the  home  had  ever 
received.  Jack,  the  delicate-looking  baby,  had 
the  facial  expression  of  a  tiny  old  man,  but  oh! 
such  beautiful  eyes !  We  realized  that  both  would 
require  very  tender  care  for  some  time  to  come. 
When  Mary  became  able  to  work,  she  rendered 
valuable  service,   for  she  liked  to  cook  and  was 


112  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

efficient  and  economical.  Whilst  she  was  thus  oc- 
cupied, her  babe  was  being  well  cared  for  in  the 
nursery. 

Several  months  passed  by,  during  which  every 
means  was  resorted  to  in  order  to  help  Mary  learn 
to  seek  and  find  her  Savior,  but  all  without  avail. 

Little  Jack,  never  very  strong,  was  taken  seri- 
ously ill  and  soon,  from  the  waist  down,  was 
paralyzed.  Mary  now  relinquished  all  other  duties 
in  order  to  nurse  her  sick  treasure.  We  never 
witnessed  greater  love  and  devotion.  For  ten  days 
before  he  died,  she  did  not  leave  his  bedside  one 
moment  longer  than  necessary,  never  changed  her 
clothes,  excepting  once,  and  never  lay  down  to 
sleep.  On  more  than  one  occasion  it  became  my 
privilege  to  share  the  night  vigils,  for  which  she 
was  sincerely  grateful.  How  my  heart  yearned 
for  this  poor,  hopeless  mother!  How  I  longed 
to  impart  to  her  the  secret  of  salvation  and  of  the 
Burden-bearer ! 

"Mary,"  I  said,  "if  you  would  only  try  my 
Savior,  dear,  I  assure  you  that  you  would  feel  bet- 
ter, body  and  soul.  I've  never  heard  your  story; 
won't  you  tell  it  to  me  whilst  we're  watching  be- 
side Baby?" 

"I've  never  felt  as  if  I  could  before,  but  I  will. 
Mother  Roberts,  I  will." 

"I  lost  my  father  and  mother  when  I  was  quite 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  118 

small^  and  my  grandparents  raised  my  little  brother 
and  me.  I  never  remember  when  they  didn't  have 
beer  on  the  table  for  dinner  and  supper,  and  if 
company  came  in,  they  always  treated  them.  If  I 
didn't  feel  quite  well  or  was  tired,  Grandmother 
would  say,  'Have  a  drop  of  beer,  Mary  child,  it'll 
do  you  good  and  put  new  life  into  you.'  It  took 
some  time  to  get  used  to  liking  it.  I  didn't  enjoy 
the  bitter  taste  at  first,  but  by  and  by  I  loved  it — 
yes,  really  loved  it. 

"I  grew  up,  and,  like  many  another  girl,  had 
my    young    friends    come    calling.      I    liked    Tom 

S best  of  all,  and  one  day  promised  I'd  marry 

him  if  the  old  folks  would  agree.  They  were  awfully 
pleased,  and  soon  let  Tom  and  me  go  about  alone 
everywhere.  He  was  a  baker,  and  a  good  one. 
Earned  fine  wages,  so  that  I  was  expecting  to  have 
a  very  comfortable  home. 

"/  wish  Grandmother  or  some  one  had  talked 
plainly  and  honestly  to  me  about  a  few  things,  but 
they  didn't;  so  what  did  I  know  when  Tom  told 
me  that  in  God's  sight  an  engagement  was  as  good 
as  a  marriage  and  that  we'd  soon,  for  the  salee  of 
appearances,  and  to  comply  with  the  law,  go 
through  that  ceremony.  My  God !  Why  didn't 
some  one  warn  me?  Oh!  Mother  Roberts,  very 
few  girls  loved  a  man  better  than  I  loved  Tom. 

"By  and  by  Grandmother  says,  'What's  become 


114  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

of  Tom?  I  haven't  seen  him  lately.  I  didn't 
know  he'd  left  his  job.*  So  I  told  her  his  work 
was  slack  and  he'd  gone  away  to  hunt  a  place 
where  he  could  get  better  pay.  You'll  not  be 
surprised  to  hear  she  soon  grew  suspicious,  and 
one  day  I  was  obliged  to  confess. 

"Did  I  tell  you  Tom  drank  beer.''  Oh  yes, 
and  enjoyed  it  with  me  and  them  many's  the 
time. 

"Was  he  a  stranger  to  me  and  my  folks  when 
I  first  met  him?  Well,  no,  not  exactly,  although 
I  must  confess  I  knew  very  little  about  him  before 
he  was  introduced  by  one  of  my  girl  friends  at 
the  baker's  and  confectioner's  ball.  Oh  hut  he  was 
an  elegant  dancer!  and  that  got  me,  in  the  first 
place. 

"My !  but  didn't  Grandmother  take  on  something 
awful!  She  ordered  me  out  of  her  sight  up  to 
my  little  bedroom  till  Grandfather  should  come 
home.  I  sat  there  listening  to  her  wailing  and 
moaning  and  asking  the  dear  Mother  of  God  what 
she  had  done  that  such  a  cruel,  cruel  misfortune 
should  have  befallen  her.  Poor  Granny!  Mother 
Roberts,  I  was  longing  to  go  down  and  comfort 
her,  but  I  durs'n't.  So  all  that  I  could  do  was 
to  walk  the  floor,  or  sit  and  cry.  Sometimes  I 
tried  to  tell  my  beads,  but  I  couldn't  take  any 
pleasure  in  them.     They  didn't  comfort  my  poor. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  115 

sinful  soul  one  bit.  I  wished  I  coxild  die  then 
and  there,  but  what  was  the  use?  I  couldn't, 
though  I  thought  fear  would  indeed  kill  me  when 
I  heard  Grandfather  come  and  and  knew  Grand- 
mother was  telling  him.  I  heard  him  raving  and 
cursing  while  she  was  begging  him  to  keep  quiet 
for  fear  the  neighbors  would  hear. 

"Pretty  soon  he  opened  the  door  that  led  up- 
stairs.    'Mary,'  he  shouted,  'you  •  — ! — ■  come 

down  and  be  quick  about  it,  I  tell  ye.'     And 

when  I  did,  he  said,  'I'll  see  whether  we'll  own 
any  one  what  will  disgrace  their  poor,  respectable, 
honest  grandparents,  what  has  brought  ye  up  in 
the  way  ye  should  go,  in  their  old  age!  Out  ye 
go,  and  be  — • — ■  quick  about  it.'  I  can  see  him 
now,  and  Grandmother,  who  was  sitting  at  the 
kitchen  table,  sobbing  with  her  head  buried  in 
her  apron.  I  crawled  on  my  hands  and  knees 
toward  him;  I  begged  him  not  to  turn  me  out;  I 
clung  to  him  so  that  he  could  hardly  walk,  while 
he,  in  his  rage,  was  backing  along  the  hall  out 
toward  the  front  door,  and  then  he  managed  to 
open  it,  me  still  clinging  to  him,  and  threw  me, 
with  a  curse,  out  into  the  dark,  cold,  wet  night. 

"I  lay  there  on  the  doorstep  until  I  found  I 
was  getting  a  soaking,  and  then  I  went  to  a 
neighbor  about  a  block  away,  who  always  had 
been  very  kind  to  me,  and  had  a  girl  of  her  own 


116  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

a  little  younger  than  me.  Did  I  tell  her?  Of 
course  I  did;  I  had  to.  So  she  took  pity  on  me 
and  let  me  sleep  there  that  night  on  a  shake-down 
in  the  parlor,  although  Mattie  (her  daughter)  had 
a  large  bed  to  herself,  and  I  told  her  not  to  go 
to  so  much  trouble,  that  I  could  sleep  with  her  as 
I'd  done  before,  many's  the  time.  But  she  said 
girls  would  get  to  talking,  and  she  didn't  want 
her  innocent  Mattie  to  know  a  girl  could  ever 
bring  such  disgrace  on  honest,  respectable  par- 
ents. But  she  didn't  know  how  Mattie  and  I 
used  to  talk  for  hours  after  we'd  get  in  bed  at 
night,  about  our  'fellers'  and  such  like,  but 
now,  who  was  I  that  I  should  tell  her  mother 
this.? 

"In  the  morning  after  breakfast  (she  kept  Mat- 
tie  out  of  sight  somewhere)  she  took  me  into  the 
parlor,  shut  the  door,  and  said: 

"  'Mary  child,  I'm  sorry  for  you,  I  am  indeed, 
but  I  can't  keep  you  here.  You  know  where  the 
county  hospital  is,  don't  you?  Well,  you  go  there, 
and  they'll  take  you  in.  They'll  take  such  cases 
as  yours.  Here's  a  quarter  to  pay  your  car 
fare.  You  needn't  let  on  you  stopped  with  me. 
You  may  be  sure  I  won't,  for  I  respect  your  Grand- 
father and  Grandmother  highly.  I  don't  want 
them  to  find  out  I  know  anything  about  your 
trouble  or  that  I  took  you  in.     Why,  they'^  never 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  117 

speak  to  me  again.  There,  there,  don't  cry.  Good- 
by  and  good  luck  to  you,  Mary/ 

"I  got  on  a  car  and  pretty  soon  was  asking  the 
gate-keeper  of  the  city  and  county  hospital  how 
I  should  apply  to  get  in.  'Patient.'''  he  asked. 
'Yes,  sir,'  said  I.  So  he  directed  me  to  the  office. 
A  lot  of  people  were  there,  waiting  their  turn. 
After  a  while  a  doctor  interviewed  me  in  a  little 
office.  He  asked  me  a  good  many  questions.  No, 
I  didn't  lie  to  him,  but  I  told  him  as  little  as 
I  could.  He  said,  'We  can't  take  you  in  yet.  Come 
on  such  a  date,'  and  put  my  name  on  a  book,  then 
wrote  on  a  card  something  about  admitting  the 
bearer,  Mary  H — • — ,  maternity  ward,  with  his 
name  and  the  day  I  was  due  there.  I  told  him 
I'd  no  place  to  go;  he  said  I  was  able  to  work 
for  a  while.  So  I  went  out  to  try  and  find  some 
work.  Before  evening  I  got  a  job  washing  dishes 
and  preparing  vegetables  in  a  small  restaurant, 
for  the  sake  of  my  board  and  bed,  and  I  stayed 
there  until  it  was  time  to  go  back  to  the  hospital. 

"I  forgot  all  my  troubles  foi-  a  while  when  Jack 
came.  .  .  .  Mother  Roberts,  how  can  I  think  God 
is  good?  He's  going  to  take  my  baby  from  me; 
he's  going  to  let  him  die.  I  can't  stand  it.  I'll 
kill  myself — yes,  I  will  .  .  ." 

Two  nights  later  little  Jack  still  breathed, 
though  scarcely  perceptibly,  and  again   I   shared 


n«  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

poor  Mary's  vigil.  About  midnight  I  asked  if  she 
felt  able  to  finish  her  story.  Presently  she  con- 
tinued : 

"When  my  little  Jack  was  three  weeks  old,  the 
nurse  of  our  ward  took  down  the  card  from  the 
head  of  my  bed,  and  told  me  I  could  go  now.  I 
was  dismissed,  and  they  wanted  my  corner  for 
another  patient. 

"I  stood  outside  the  big  gate  that  afternoon 
wondering  where  I  could  go  and  holding  my  pretty 
little  Jack  against  my  breast.  I'd  a  nice  warm 
shawl,  so  he  was  good  and  comfortable.  A  thought 
like  this  struck  me.  'Grandfather  is  so  fond  of 
babies.  I'll  go  there.  Perhaps  when  he  sees  the 
dear,  innocent  little  baby,  he'll  forgive  me  and 
take  me  back/  It  seemed  as  though  I  would  never 
reach  their  house  [in  the  neighborhood  of  Sixth 
and  Clara  Streets,  reader],  and  I  had  to  rest  on 
some  one's  doorsteps  very  often,  I  was  that  weak. 
It  was  pretty  near  dusk  when  I  knocked  on  the 
door,  and  the  fog  was  coming  in.  Grandmother 
opened  it.  She  threw  up  her  hands  when  she 
saw  me;  didn't  ask  me  in,  but  hollered  for  Grand- 
father to  come,  and  come  quick,  which  he  did.  Oh ! 
Mother  Roberts,  to  my  dying  day  I'll  remember 
how  he  cursed  me  when  he  saw  me  and  my  baby's 
darling  face,  and  then  he  closed  the  door  with 
an   awful  bang.     Well,   I   was   dazed   like   for   a 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  110 

little  bit,  then  Baby  cried.  I  sat  on  somebody's 
doorstep  and  nursed  him,  then  kept  on  walking 
and  resting;  going,  I  hardly  knew  where. 

"It  must  have  been  well  after  seven  o'clock  when 
I  found  myself  on  Montgomery  Avenue  and  not 
very  far  from  North  Beach.  My!  but  I  was  faint, 
although  I'd  had  a  good  meal  at  the  hospital  at 
noon,  but  you  know  a  nursing  mother  needs  plenty 
of  nourishing  food  and  often.  I  saw  a  light  in  a 
little  notion  shop,  and  went  in  and  asked  the 
woman  if  she  could  spare  me  a  bite  to  eat.  Bless 
her  kind  heart,  she  gave  me  a  big  bowl  full  of 
bread  and  milk,  and  warmed  some  stew,  and  helped 
me  make  Jack  clean  and  comfortable,  but  she 
had  no  place  for  me  to  sleep,  which  she  told  me 
sorrowfully.  Her  family  was  large,  and  she  did 
not  have  a  bit  of  extra  bedding,  besides  she  was 
poor.  I  was  feeling  better  now  and  more  cheer- 
ful. My!  'tis  wonderful  what  a  good  meal  can 
do  for  you  when  you're  hungry,  isn't  it .''  I  thanked 
her  kindly  and  told  her  I'd  soon  find  friends;  then 
went  out  on  the  street  and  began  to  watch  the 
faces.  At  last  I  stepped  up  to  an  elderly  labor- 
ing man,  told  him  I  had  lost  my  way,  was  broke, 
a  stranger,  and  a  widow,  and  asked  him  if  he 
could  direct  me  to  a  respectable  lodging-house, 
which  he  did  (bless  his  kind  heart!)  and  paid  the 
woman  for  a  night's  lodging,  she  asking  no  ques- 


120  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

tions;  and  soon  I  was  in  a  clean  little  bed  with 
my  Jack.  I  don't  think  my  Head  had  hardly 
touched  the  pillow  when  I  was  fast  asleep,  all 
of  my  troubles  forgotten. 

"Morning  came  all  too  soon.  And  now  what 
was  I  to  do?  I  dressed,  then  made  baby  as  com- 
fortable as  I  could  under  the  circumstances,  went 
down  the  stairs,  meeting  no  one  as  I  passed  out 
of  the  house  into  the  street.  Pretty  soon  I'd 
made  up  my  mind.  I'd  walk  down  to  Meigg's 
wharf  (  not  far  away)  and  with  my  darling  would 
drop  quietly  off  the  end  of  it  into  the  bay;  and 
I  was  soon  looking  into  the  nice  quiet  water,  just 
about  to  fall  in  when  I  heard  a  voice,  for  sure  I 
did.  Mother  Roberts,  saying,  'Don't  Mary.'  Maybe 
you  don't  think  I  was  scared  as  I  looked  all  around 
and  could  see  no  one  nearer  than  a  block  and  a 
half  away,  and  that  was  a  man  piling  up  some 
lumber  on  a  wagon;  besides,  the  voice  I  heard  was 
a  woman's,  not  a  man's.  I  began  to  back  away 
from  the  water,  wondering  if  I'd  heard  an  angel 
speak.  .   .  . 

"Yes;  I  admit  I  am  naturally  superstitious,  but 
don't  you  think  in  a  case  like  this,  it's  a  good 
thing?" 

"Yes;  I  do,  Mary,  but  go  on,  dear,  I'm  anxious 
to  hear  what  became  of  you." 

"I  went  back  to  the  woman  who  gave  me  my 


121 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  121 

supper,  and  she  gave  me  my  breakfast,  then  ad- 
vised me  to  put  my  baby  with  the  sisters  of  Mount 
St.  Joseph.  But  I  never  could  do  that,  could  you? 
I  said  good-by  to  my  kind  friend  and  started  out 
for  where,  I  did  not  know.  All  of  a  sudden  I 
said  to  myself,  'I'll  go  back  to  the  hospital  and 
offer  to  scrub  and  do  chores;  anything,  so  they'll 
take  me  and  my  baby  in.'  It  took  me  till  nearly 
one  o'clock  to  reach  there.  Every  time  I  sat  down 
to  rest  and  a  policeman  came  along,  I'd  get  up 
quickly  and  walk  on,  for  fear  he  might  arrest  me 
as  a  suspicious  character. 

"The  man  at  the  gate  didn't  want  to  let  me  in; 
said  they  had  been  obliged  to  quarantine;  but  I 
rushed  past  him  up  to  the  office,  threw  myself  at 
a  doctor's  feet,  and  begged  him  for  God's  sake 
not  to  send  me  away.  He  sent  for  the  head  nurse; 
they  gave  me  my  dinner,  made  Baby  nice  and 
clean  and  comfortable,  and  pretty  soon  one  of  the 
nurses  came  and  told  me  they  had  found  me  and 
Baby  a  good  home,  and  here  I've  been,  as  you 
know,  ever  since.  But  oh!  Mother  Roberts,  my 
little  Jack  is  going  to  die,  he's  going  to  die!  .  .  . 

"Four  days  since  you  opened  your  beautiful 
eyes  and  looked  at  Mother,  Precious.  Four  long, 
long  days.  .  .  . 

^'Mother  Roberts,  I  think  I  would  believe  and 
trust  God  if  he  would  only  let  my  baby  look  at 


122  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

me  once  more  before  he  goes.  I  really  think  I 
would." 

"Kneel  down  with  me,  Mary,  and  we'll  ask 
him/'  I  said. 

We  clasped  hands  over  the  foot  of  that  little 
bed,  and  if  ever  I  prayed,  I  prayed  then  that  the 
merciful  Father  would,  for  the  sake  of  his  Son 
our  Savior,  and  for  his  own  glory,  open  the  eyes 
of  the  babe  once  more  before  the  angels  took  him 
home.  The  poor  worn-out  mother  sobbed  herself 
to  sleep,  her  head  resting  on  little  Jack's  lifeless 
feet.  I  watched,  earnestly  and  intently  watched, 
for  my  prayer  to  be  answered.  Toward  daylight 
I  observed  a  slight  movement  of  the  little  head. 
"Wake  up!  wake  up,  Mary!"  I  cried,  whilst  I 
shook  and  continued  to  shake  her.  The  voice 
awoke  many  of  the  family,  who  quickly  has- 
tened to  the  sick-room.  Mary  with  bloodshot  eyes 
gazed  at  the  baby.  Soon  his  beautiful  eyes  opened 
wide,  with  a  long,  loving  look  at  the  faithful 
mother,  then  closed;  and  now  the  angels  had  him 
forever  in  their  keeping. 

"O  God,  O  God,  you  are  good,  you  are  good," 
sobbed  poor  Mary.  "I'll  never,  never  doubt  you 
any  more."  And  she  never  did.  From  that  day, 
and,  so  far  as  I  know,  up  to  the  present  time, 
Mary  has  been  one  of  our  Father's  and  Savior's 
loyal  subjects. 


WilTH    THE    OUTCAST.  188 

As  soon  as  able^  she  took  a  situation^  so  as  to 
earn  money  to  pay  Jack's  funeral  expenses  and 
to  purchase  the  lot  where  lie  his  earthly  remains. 
I  was  told  that  her  mistress  accepted  the  Savior 
because  of  her  faithful  daily  walk.  Later,  her 
brother,  returned  from  the  Philippines,  claimed 
and  took  her  back  there  with  him,  where,  doubt- 
less, she  is  seeking  and  finding  jewels  for  the 
Master's  crown. 

"What  became  of  the  grandparents — -the  ones 
responsible  before  God  for  her  misfortunes?"  Dur- 
ing the  first  few  weeks  of  Mary's  stay  under  our 
roof.  Sister  Kauffman  and  I  called  on  them,  hop- 
ing so  to  picture  the  Savior's  tender  mercy  and 
love  as  to  be  able  to  touch  their  hearts,  to  dis- 
cover to  them  their  self-righteous  condition,  and 
to  get  them  to  realize  where  the  blame  really 
lay.  All  our  eflforts  were  fruitless.  The  earth- 
quake and  fire  of  San  Francisco  swept  away  all 
their  property,  and  in  all  probability  they  perished 
in  the  flames,  for  they  were  never  again  heard 
of. 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  WITH  THE  OUTCAST.  125 

CHAPTER   XIII. 
SERVICES    IN    COUNTY    JAIL,    BRANCH    NO.    3. 

Come  with  me  this  beautiful  Sunday  morning. 
Join  with  me  and  this  faithful  band  of  young 
workers  from  various  denominations^  in  the  nine 
o'clock  services,  and  satisfy  yourself  as  to  the 
good  they,  by  the  grace  of  God,  are  able  to  ac- 
complish. 

Good  morning,  gate-keeper.  Have  the  rest  of 
the  band  arrived  yet? 

Yes.? 

Then  we'll  pass  in. 

We  enter  the  beautifully  laid-out  grounds  sur- 
rounding the  women's  quarters.  What  lovely 
lawns !  What  a  variety  of  fragrant  flowers !  But 
we  must  hurry,  for  we  can  not  afford  to  miss  the 
services.  We  ascend  the  long  flight  of  steps  and 
are  now  greeted  by  the  superintendent  and  his 
wife,  the  matron.  Next  we  traverse  a  long,  wide 
hallway.  Turning  to  the  left,  we  mount  a  few 
steps,  and  then  come  up  against  a  solid  iron  double 
door.  Through  an  aperture  in  one  side  of  it  we 
get  a  glimpse  of  the  throng  within.  The  door  is 
unlocked  for  our  admission,  and,  passing  through, 
we  find  ourselves  facing  anywhere  from  forty  to 
sixty  girls  and  women,  for  the  most  part  neatly 
attired  in  dark  blue-print  gowns. 


126  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

"What  a  heterogeneous  gathering  we  are  con- 
fronting! Some  look  so  refined;  doubtless  they 
are  from  the  better  walks  of  life.  Why  are  they 
here?" 

For  offenses  of  various  kinds  too  numerous  to 
mention.  "That  dignified^  white-haired  woman, 
third  row  on  our  left.^" 

Ask  me  about  her  later  on.  I  will  tell  you  on 
our  way  home. 

"That   pretty    fair-haired    girl    about   sixteen?" 

Vagrancy,  Her  sentence  expires  in  two  weeks. 
We're  trying  to  persuade  her  to  come  to  our  home, 
because  her  own  is  undesirable.  Both  of  her  par- 
ents drink;  her  older  sister  has  taken  the  down- 
ward course  and  refuses  all  our  overtures;  and  her 
two  brothers  are  constantly  in  drunken  bouts  and 
then  imprisoned. 

"That  old,  old  woman;  what  of  her?" 

She's  awaiting  her  trial  for  malpractice.  She'll 
probably  have  to  serve  time  in  San  Quentin  peni- 
tentiary.    But  I'll  tell  you  more  by  and  by. 

Brother  Edstrom  of  the  Y.  M,  C.  A.  speaks — 
"Let  us  all  heartily  join  in  singing,  'Pass  me  not, 
O  gentle  Savior,'  Gospel  Hymns  No.  27."  How 
they  sing!  and  what  beautiful  voices  some  of  the 
prisoners  have! 

"Brother  St.  John,  will  you  lead  in  prayer?" 

Without  exception  all  kneel  as  the  consecrated 


STILL  NEARER. 

Words  and  Music  by  Mrs.  Flobencx  Robebts. 


1.  Oh,  help  me  live  near  thee,  my  Sav-ior, 

2.  I     love  thee,  my  Fa  -  ther,  and  Sav  -  ior, 


Oh,  keep  thou  me 
For  what  thou  hast 


S 


^ 


3t=S: 


close  by    my   side;      I  need  thee,  Lord,  dai- ly  and  hour-ly, 
done  for    me;     Me,  one    of    the  great-est   of    sin  -  ners, 


^^- 


&- 


:*-=f 


-V— ^- 

My  Coun-sel-or     and      my   Guide.       I    can  -  not  have  thee  too 
I      mar-vel,  such  welcome  from  theel  Won-der  -  ful  con-quest  o'er 


^ 


H)ff"^f 


m=iM^l:i^ 


-d-* 


near  me,    •]    Ei-ther  by  day  or  by  night;  For  when  thou  art  nigh  the 
Sa  -  tan's  Al  -  lur  -  ing  paths  of    sin;     My  Sav-ior,  to  thee  the 


E^3 


t==t^ 


i£ 


d^ 


tempt-er  doth   fly.  Thou  dost  help  me  to    put  him   to     flight, 
glo  -  ry    all     be.     Now    help  me  some  lost  ones  to     win. 

Refrain. 


^ 


:S=4S 


•-I- 


^^^ 


Near  -  er,  still  near  -  er.   Come  to   me   o'er    and     o'er: 


^ 


^ 


^^ 


P 


=M 


±1^ 


Near-er  to  thee,  Sav-ior,  I'd   be.     Now  and  for  -  ev  -  er  -  more. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  129 

young  brother  makes  fervent,  passionate  appeal 
to  the  throne  of  mercy  and  grace. 

"Will  one  of  our  congregation  now  call  for 
a  song?" 

"No.  18." 

"Very  good,  we  will  sing  No.  18." 

Rescue  the  perishing,  care  for  the  dying:. 
Snatch  them  in  pity  from  sin  and  the  grave; 

Weep  o'er  the  erring  one,  lift  up  the  fallen, 
Tell  them  of  Jesus  the  mighty  to  save. 

You  can't  keep  back  the  tears  as  you  listen,  and 
this  is  not  to  be  wondered  at. 

"Sister  Burton,  we  will  now  listen  to  your 
reading  of  the  fifty-fifth  chapter  of  Isaiah." 

"Sister  Roberts,  I  see  you  have  your  autoharp 
with  you.  Please  favor  us  with  one  of  your  God- 
sent  songs." 

"Nearer,  Still  Nearer." 

The  prisoners  sing  refrain  twice  over  with  me 
and  then  request  a  repetition.  It  is  inspiring  to  hear 
them,  it  surely  is. 

"We  will  now  spend  a  few  minutes  in  testimony. 
Who  will  be  the   first   to   witness    for   Jesus   this 


morning 


?" 


Three  or  four  are  on  their  feet  at  once,  some 
thanking  God  that,  even  though  they  are  behind 
prison  bars,  he  has  washed  away  their  sins  in  the  pre- 
cious blood  of  Jesus,  and  declaring  their  intention  of 


130  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

leading  clean  lives,  lives  that  will  honor  the  Lord ; 
adding  that  they  are  asking  him  to  give  them 
honest  jobs  in  respectable  quarters,  so  that  they 
need  never  again  be  obliged  to  return  to  their 
former  environments  of  vice  and  degradation.  And 
so  on,  until  time  for  testimony  is  up. 

"How  many  desire  an  interest  in  our  prayers, 
that  you  may  lead  lives  that  will  fit  you  for 
heaven  instead  of  sending  you  down  to  an  awful 
hell?  Please  raise  your  hands.  One,  two,  three, 
six,  ten;  nearly  all  who  have  not  testified.  God 
bless  you!     Let  us  pray." 

Brother  Edstrom  so  earnestly  petitions  the  lov- 
ing Father  for  mercy  and  pardon  for  these  poor 
souls  that  some  of  them  weep  audibly.  Again  we 
all  join  in  singing;  the  benediction  is  pronounced; 
then  those  conducting  the  meeting  repair  quickly 
to  the  men's  quarters  in  an  adjacent  but  separate 
enclosure.  There  a  similar  service  is  held,  after 
which  the  majority  hurry  away  to  the  various 
houses  of  worship  for  the  eleven  o'clock  services. 

When  not  otherwise  engaged,  I  find  it  pleasur- 
able as  well  as  profitable  to  linger,  but  on  this 
occasion  I  shall  not  remain.  As  we  walk  along,  I 
will  keep  my  word  concerning  some  of  the  in- 
quired-about  inmates. 

The  dignified,  white-haired  woman  spends  the 
greater    part    of    her    time    in    that    prison-house. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  131 

She  is  addicted  to  the  morphine  habit,  and,  in  con- 
sequence, she  resorts  to  any  means  to  procure  the 
drug.  It  has  made  a  petty  thief  of  her,  thus 
causing  her  frequent  arrest  and  incarceration  for 
three  or  six  months. 

She  was  the  wife  of  a  prominent  professional 
man,  and,  so  far  as  this  world's  goods  are  con- 
cerned, she  enjoyed  everything  that  a  loving  hus- 
band was  able  to  lavish  on  her.  At  the  time  of, 
and  following,  the  birth  of  her  third  child,  the  at- 
tending physician,  in  order  to  assuage  her  excru- 
ciating pain,  administered  morphine.  She  con- 
tinued to  resort  to  it,  and  soon  she  was  its  slave. 
Everything  known  to  human  skill  was  done  to  cure 
her  of  the  habit,  but  without  much  effect.  She 
began  to  inject  the  drug  into  her  flesh  with  a 
hypodermic  needle  and  also  to  mix  it  with  cocaine. 
Thus  she  soon  became  a  mortification  to  her  hus- 
band, relatives,  and  friends,  and  erelong  they 
felt  that  she  had  forfeited  all  claims  to  their  con- 
sideration. They  forsook  her,  absolutely  refused 
to  recognize  her.  In  process  of  time  the  husband 
procured  a  divorce  and  sole  guardianship  of  the 
children. 

Soon  she  disappeared  from  her  home  neighbor- 
hood and  for  the  future  was  lost  sight  of  by  all 
except  police  judges,  and  oflScers,  prison  compan- 
ions, and  habitue  of  morphine  dens.     Every  home 


1S2  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

missionary  I  know  of  in  San  Francisco  had  made 
some  attempt  or  sacrifice  for  the  redemption  of 
this  unfortunate  woman,  but  apparently  with  lit- 
tle, if  any,  effect.  One  day  she  told  me  that  I  was 
wasting  my  time,  for  she  loved  her  drug  better 
than  her  God.  I  wondered  if  she  reaUy  meant 
it. 

You  ask  if  this  is  an  exceptional  case?  Not  by 
any  manner  of  means.  I  am  able  to  relate  many 
others,  all  different  in  detail,  but  all  alike  in  the 
main,  the  family  physician  being  primarily  respon- 
sible. 

My  heart  goes  out  tenderly  for  the  younger  in- 
mates of  the  prison,  most  of  whom  are  there  for 
a  first  offense,  and  who  are  now  in  great  danger  of 
contracting  bad  habits,  such  as  cigarette-smok- 
ing, from  older  offenders.  "What!"  you  exclaim, 
"do  they  permit  women  and  girls  to  smoke?"  I'm 
sorry  to  tell  you  it  is  only  too  true.  Furthermore, 
the  weed  is  procured  from  those  in  authority  over 
them.  And  from  that  habit  and  others  acquired 
during  incarceration,  deeper  demoralization  results, 
so  that  many  come  forth  worse  than  they  ever  were 
before  their  imprisonment.  Nevertheless,  realizing 
the  limitless  value  of  even  one  soul,  the  home  mis- 
sionary keeps,  ever  keeps  in  view  Gal.  6 :  9 — "And 
let  us  not  be  weary  in  well  doing ;  for  in  due  season 
we  shall  reap,  if  we  faint  not." 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  188 

With  but  very  few  exceptions  the  prisoners  of 
both  sexes  admit  that  liquor  or  drugs,  of  both, 
have  cursed  their  lives,  made  every  type  of  crimi- 
nal out  of  them,  forfeited  them  their  liberty,  some 
for  life,  aye,  even  life  itself.  I  have  dealt  with 
some  of  the  ones  condemned  to  die.  I  learn  this 
from  their  own  Ups. 

When,  oh!  when  will  that  awful  octopus,  that 
curse  of  the  world  be  destroyed  ?  When,  oh !  when 
will  our  lawmakers  and  our  officers  eliminate  for- 
ever the  accursed  poisons  that  ruin  men  and  women 
both  physically  and  morally? 

What  chance  do  God'^s  consecrated  workers  have, 
with  this  band  of  demons  confronting  them  on 
every  hand,  dragging  souls  down  to  hell  every 
hour  of  the  day,  yea,  every  minute? 

'How  long,  O  Lord,  how  long?'     Psa.  94:  3. 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  WITH  THE  OUTCAST.  135 

CHAPTER    XIV. 
LUCY — A    REMARKABLE    EXPERIENCE. 

Following  the  services  one  Sunday  morning,  sev- 
eral of  the  inmates  waited  on  me  in  a  body. 
"Mother  Roberts,"  the  spokesman  began,  "there's 
a  dying  girl  in  one  of  the  cells  in  the  smaller 
dormitory.  She's  spitting  blood  something  dread- 
ful, and  she's  so  bad.  Bad  and  all  as  some  of 
us  are,  we're  scared  the  way  she  goes  on.  Her 
language  is  just  awful!  She  never  comes  out  to 
the  services,  yet  she's  been  here  for  months.  Says 
she  has  no  use  for  'them  hypocrites,'  and  'don't 
want  none  of  'em  near  her.'  Says  she'll  curse  'em 
if  they  do  come.  Say,  Mother  Roberts,  couldn't 
you  make  some  excuse  to  get  into  her  cell.''  We 
haven't  the  heart  to  see  her  deliberately  go  to  hell." 

For  a  few  minutes  silence  reigned,  whilst  I 
thought  and  inwardly  prayed.  Then  I  felt  it  to 
be  of  the  Lord  to  carry  out  an  impression  to  walk 
quietly  into  her  cell  as  though  by  mistake,  trust- 
ing the  Divine  Director  for  results.  .  .  . 

Propped  up  in  one  corner  of  her  bunk,  wrapped 
in  grey  blankets,  reclined  a  hollow-eyed,  ghastly- 
looking  girl,  gasping  for  breath.  Some  blood  was 
trickling  from  the  corners  of  her  mouth.  She 
glared  at  me,  tried  to  speak,  but  failed.  Quickly 
I    took    out    my    handkerchief,    dipped    it    into 


136  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

the  granite  ewer  close  by,  and  wiped  her  poor 
face  and  mouth;  then  she  whispered,  "Again." 
Repeatedly  this  was  done,  the  Spirit  of  God  all 
this  time  impressing  me  not  to  utter  one  word 
aloud,  yet  giving  me  a  wonderful,  most  blessed 
realization  of  his  presence  and  power.  After  I 
had  made  her  as  comfortable  as  surroundings 
would  admit,  she  presently  slept.  Then  I  quietly 
tip-toed  out;  exacted  a  promise  from  her  com- 
panions not  to  reveal  my  identity,  which  promise 
they  faithfully  kept,  though  under  difficulties;  had 
a  conference  with  Mrs.  Kincaid,  the  matron;  then 
went  away. 

I  returned  the  following  morning  and  for  four 
more  consecutive  days.  Still  the  dear  Lord  did 
not  permit  me  to  speak.  On  Friday  afternoon  as 
I  was  about  to  leave  her  (by  the  way,  she  had  ob- 
served almost  stolid  silence  so  far),  she  called 
me  to  come  back. 

"What  is  it,  dear?"  I  asked. 
"Say,  do  you  mind  telling  me  who  you  are.?" 
"Why?     Why  do  you  wish  to  know?" 
After    a    prolonged    silence    I    once    more    was 
about  to  depart,  but  she  called  again: 
"I'll  have  to  say  it." 
"Say  what,  Lucy?" 
"Say  this:  you  act  like  a  Christian." 
Oh !  praise  God,  praise  God !  the  ice  was  broken. 


WAS  IT  YOU? 

Words  and  Masic  by  Mrs.  Flohkngs  Bobkrts. 


=F^=5^ 


F?=^ 


-^-^» 


P=^ 


i^=r 


^*j./i^ 


1.  Some  one  spoke  to  me  of  Je  -  sus,  Said  he'd  come  to  call  on  me, 

2.  Some  one  told  me  how  he  suf-fered,  Said,"For  you  and  me  he  died." 

3.  Some  one  gave  the  in  -  vi  -  ta  -  tion,  And  we  bowed  in  humbl :  prayer; 

4.  Lov  -  ing  Sav-ior,  how  I  thank  thee  Some  one  came  to  me  that  day— 

5.  Oh,    I  know  that  man-y  oth  -  ers  Would  be  glad  if  "some  one"  came, 


^E^^l^    J  IJJ^F^ 


^±^ 


Said 
"Does, 
Soon 
Some 
Bring 


no  mat-ter  how  I'd  fall  -  en.    He  from  sin  would  set  me  free, 
oh,  does  he  love  so  dear  -  ly?   Tell  me  more  of  him,"  I  cried. 
I    felt  my  sins  f  or-giv  -  en;  Thro'  his  grace  I'll  meet  you  there, 
one  rep  -  re-sent-ing  Je  -  sus.  And   I  turned  thee  not  a  -  way. 
■ing  lov-  ing  in  -  vi  -  ta  -  tion  From  their  lives  of  sin  and  shame. 


^^^^^m 


m 


f 


Some  one  told  me  how  he  loved  me.  And  was  knocking  at  my  door; 
Some  one  told  me  he    is    com -ing  Soon  to  take  his  loved  ones  home,— 
There  in  mansions  bright  with  glo-ry.    Oh,  't  is  won-der-ful  to    me 
Bless,  oh,  bless  that  loving  some  one.  Sent  by  Je-sns  Christ  our  Lord; 
In  -   to  lives  of  peace  and  glo  -  ry.  Thro'  the  blood  of  Christ  the  Lamb: 


i 


m 


fr-^ 


^-4 


:t 


He    had  oft-en  stood  there  plead-ing,   Had  been  man-y  times  be-fore. 
Told  me    he  was  there  to  par  -  don.      If     I  now  to  him  would  come. 
That  the    vil  -  est  he    is  seek  -  ing  From  their  sins  to  set  them  free! 
Help  me,  now  that  I  am  blood-washed,  Wit-ness  to  thy  precious  word. 
Send  me  pray-ing.  bless-ed  Je  -  sus.  With  that  song,"Ju8t  as  I  am." 


Moderato  largo. 

n — 


fit.  PP 


I 


^ 


^=2- 


-iSLi 


Was   it  you?   Was   it  you?   Was   it   yon? 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  189 

and  my  pent-up  soul  gave  vent  to  a  copious  flow 
of  refreshing  tears,  as  I  bowed  in  gratitude  at 
that  prison  bunk,  beside  that  wandering  sick  girl, 
and  poured  out  my  heart  in  earnest  prayer  for  the 
dear  Father  to  guide  her  into  all  truth,  and  to 
make  me  ever-wise  in  my  administrations  to  the 
needs  of  herself  and  others.  Then,  kissing  her  on 
the  brow,  I  left  her. 

On  the  following  Sunday  I  returned  and 
found  her  eager  to  see  me,  also  much  improved  in 
health.  After  our  greeting  she  told  me  that  she 
had  been  trying  to  discover  who  I  was,  but  that 
no  one  would  inform  her.  "Ain't  they  the  limit  .^" 
was   her  smiling  expression. 

"You'll  teU  me,  won't  you.''  Say,  who  was  that 
singing  out  in  the  big  dormitory  a  while  ago?" 

"Every  one  was  singing,  Lucy." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  know,  but  I  mean  some  one  some- 
times alone  and  plaiidng  something  that  sounds  like 
a  guitar-mandolin  like  we  have  at  home?" 

"Would  you  care  to  hear  her?" 

"Sure  I  would.  Please  go  ask  her  to  come  in." 
Soon  I  returned  with  my  precious  little  instrument. 

"Is  that  it?    Would'nt  she  come?" 

"Of  course  she  would.     Listen,  Lucy." 


Oh !  those  blessed  tears  she  shed  as  she  pillowed 


140  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

her  head  on  my  breast;  those  blessed,  blessed 
tears ! 

"Come  tomorrow,  please  come." 

"God  willing,  Lucy,  yes." 

"Why  do  you  say,  'God  willing'?  Of  course 
he'll  be  willing." 

And  I  went  forth,  scarcely  able  to  contain  my- 
self for  very  joy. 

The  next  morning  I  returned  and  spent  many 
hours  with  this  precious,  very  precious  jewel. 
There  was  no  longer  any  restraint.  She  listened 
eagerly  whilst  I  imparted  choice  portions  of  the 
Word.  (Reader,  the  utmost  precaution  had  to  be 
used,  for  she  had  not  yet  accepted  her  Savior. 
Believe  me,  there  is  danger  of  excess  in  surfeiting 
with  the  Bible.  I  lovingly  admonish  you  to  seek 
earnestly  for  divine  wisdom  with  regard  to  deal- 
ing with  souls.  My  lessons  on  those  lines  have 
thus  far  been  dearly  purchased;  for  I  have  ig- 
norantly,  zealously,  made  many  mistakes,  thus  for 
the  time  being,  hindered,  more  than  aided  their 
spiritual  progress.  To  illustrate:  A  janitor's  child 
has  a  toy  broom.  Papa  has  just  swept  one  part 
of  the  hall  and  is  about  to  remove  the  accumulated 
dust.  "Papa,  let  me  help  you,"  and  forthwith 
the  child  sweeps  a  large  portion  of  the  dust  over 
thte  already  icleaned  floor.  Papa  sighs,  sadly 
Smiles,    says    nothing,    but    patiently    proceeds    to 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  141 

clean  up  again.  Reader,  I'm  sure  you  see  the 
point.) 

Not  many  days  thereafter,  when  Lucy  was 
again  able  to  be  up  and  dressed,  she  asked  me 
to  pray  for  her,  and  before  we  rose  from  our 
knees,  she  knew  my  Savior  was  hers.  Even  so, 
yet  she  still  smoked  cigarettes.  This  grieved  my 
soul,  but  I  waited  until  of  her  own  accord  she 
inquired  whether  I  thought  it  a  sin  to  smoke. 
She  excused  herself  on  the  plea  that  smoking 
quieted  her  nerves  and  also  induced  sleep.  She 
told  me,  however,  that  she  was  now  trying  to 
curtail,  as  she  had  hitherto  indulged  in  as  many 
as  twenty  a  day.  I  asked  if  she  would  wish  her 
dear  Redeemer  to  see  her  rolling  and  smoking 
cigarettes,  referred  her  to  Rev.  22:11,  and  soon, 
without  further  comment,  took  my  departure. 

She  was  able  to  attend  services  the  following 
Sunday.  I  still  see  her  eagerly  absorbing  every- 
thing said  and  sung.  As  soon  as  the  meeting 
closed,  she  took  possession  of  me,  marshaled  me 
to  her  cell,  kissed  and  seated  me,  and  then  said: 

"I  want  to  tell  you  something  so  badly,  I  could 
hardly  wait  until  the  others  were  through.  Mother 
Roberts,  after  you  left  last  Wednesday,  I  got  to 
thinking  about  my  filthy  habit,  so  I  went  on  my 
knees,  and  did  what  you  told  me;  I  prayed,  if  it 
wasn't  right,  for  God  to  make  me  hate  it.     My! 


142  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

but  I  was  nervous  an  hour  later,  and  had  to  have 
a  smoke.  I  woke  up  in  the  night  wanting  an- 
other, so  rolled  my  cigarette  and  was  just  in  the 
act  of  lighting  it  when  something  seemed  to  say, 
'Lucy,  if  you'll  let  it  alone  yoa  shall  never  need 
one  again!'  I  put  out  the  match  and  lay  down, 
but  I  couldn't  sleep.  I  was  that  nervous;  so 
I  reached  over  to  the  window  ledge,  picked  up  my 
cigarette,  put  it  between  my  lips  once  more  and 
struck  a  light,  when  again  I  distinctly  got  that 
impression.  Oh!  but  I  was  tempted,  so  for  fear 
I  would  weaken  I  got  out  of  bed,  and  with  my 
bare  feet  crushed  the  dirty  weed  all  to  smithereens. 
I  slept  soundly  till  morning,  and  woke  up  smell- 
ing the  odor  of  tobacco-smoke.  Mother,  I  want 
to  tell  you  the  strange  part  of  it;  the  smell  actu- 
ally made  me  sick  at  my  stomach.  How  do  you 
account  for  that?  To  be  sure,  I'm  very  nervous, 
but  nothing  on  earth  could  tempt  me  to  smoke 
again."   .   .   . 

Dear  Lucy  grew  in  grace  very  rapidly.  Ere- 
long she  confided  who  her  family  were,  also 
read  me  portions  of  their  letters,  and  at  her 
request  I  wrote  to  her  mother,  who  soon  re- 
plied at  length. 

The  time  was  approaching  when  my  dear  spir- 
itual daughter  would  soon  have  her  freedom;  but 
I  learned  that,  for  good  and  sufficient  family  rea- 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  143 

sons,  it  would  be  impossible  for  her  to  return  to 
them  for  some  time  to  come.  The  mother  wrote, 
asking  if  it  would  be  possible  for  me  to  assume 
temporary    guardianship. 

Owing  to  impaired  health,  I  was  not  at  this 
time  residing  at  the  Home  of  Peace,  but  instead 
was  occupying  quiet  quarters  in  the  cottage  of  a 
sister  missionary,  who  was  absent  much  of  the 
time  and  who,  in  return  for  light  services,  gave 
me  the  use  of  a  nice  large  room  furnished  for  light 
housekeeping.  I  asked  and  obtained  her  per- 
mission to  have  Lucy  share  the  room  with  me — 
this  with  the  proviso  that  Lucy's  identity  be 
closely  guarded.  Also,  I  obtained  sanction  from 
the  judge  (who,  when  sentencing  her,  ordered  her 
removed  from  San  Francisco  at  the  expiration  of 
her  term)  to  keep  her  with  me,  but  under  close 
surveillance. 

Lucy  joyfully  placed  herself  in  my  keeping, 
without  knowing  what  disposition  was  to  be  made 
of  her.  Frequently  she  petitioned  to  be  lodged 
in  my  immediate  neighborhood.  In  reply,  I  simply 
smiled.  You  can  not  imagine  how  much  I  was 
enjoying  my  delightful  secret  nor  with  what  pleas- 
ure I  prepared  new  clothing  purchased  with  the 
money  sent  by  her  own  dear  mother.  Lucy  and 
I  were  now  counting  the  days,  soon  the  hours. 

My   pretty   room,    with   its    folding-bed,    organ. 


144  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

sideboard,  decorations  of  glass  and  chinaware,  un- 
derwent, the  day  before  her  freedom,  an  extra 
cleaning  in  preparation  for  my  guest,  and  I  arose 
at  three  o'clock  the  following  morning  in  order 
to  add  finishing  touches  and  also  to  prepare  for 
an  immediate  meal  on  our  return.  At  five  o'clock 
I  boarded  a  car,  which  shortly  before  six  landed 
me  in  front  of  the  long  driveway  leading  to  the 
prison  grounds. 

Lucy  was  ready  even  to  her  hat  and  gloves. 
She  was  regaled  with  such  remarks  as,  "Oh,  but 
you're  the  lucky  girl!"  "Wish  some  one  would 
take  a  like  interest  in  me,"  "Come  back  and  see 
us  once  in  a  while,"  or,  "Won't  you  write  me? 
It'll  be  such  a  comfort  to  hear  from  you,  Lucy." 
Next  she  received  very  kind,  parental  advice  from 
the  Captain  and  Mrs.  Kincaid.  Then  we  went 
down  the  steps  and  terraced  walks,  the  door  in  the 
prison  wall  swung  wide  open,  and  once  more  Lucy 
was  free. 

But  why  does  she  stand  stock  still?  Why  in- 
hale such  long,  deep  breaths? 

"Isn't  it  lovely.  Mother  Roberts,  lovely,  lovely !" 

"The  air  is  just  as  fresh  in  the  garden  we  have 
just  left,  Lucy  dear." 

"No  doubt,  but  this  is  freedom!  Praise  God, 
this  is  freedom!  Good-by  [this  to  the  guard  on 
the  lookout].     When  I  come  again,  it  will  be  to 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  145 

preach  the  gospel.  God  bless  you.  Good-by. 
Come,  Mother,  I'm  ready." 

I  was  loathe '  to  check  her  enthusiasm  on  the 
way  home,  but  had  to  do  so,  in  order  not  to  at- 
tract the  attention  of  the  passengers.  We  reached 
our  street.  I  opened  the  door  with  my  latch-key, 
led  the  way  up-stairs,  entered  my  room,  and  bade 
her  welcome  in  the  name  of  the  dear  Lord.  She 
had  prostrated  herself  at  my  feet,  but  I  quickly 
raised  her,  and  we  knelt  in  prayer  and  thanksgiv- 
ing. It  was  worth  all  the  gold  in  the  Klondyke  to 
me  to  hear  that  girl's  prayer.  She  couldn't  eat, 
and  I  didn't  do  much  better.  The  rest  of  the  day 
Lucy  spent  in  writing  a  long,  long  letter  to  her 
parents.  If  I  remember  right,  she  covered  thirty 
pages  of  ordinary  letter  paper. 

Bedtime  arrived. 

"Where  am  I  to  sleep.  Mother  dear?"  Lucy 
inquired.  "With  me,  Lucy,  here  in  the  folding- 
bed,"   I  answered. 

"Mother,  do  you  mean  it.^  Would  you  let  me 
sleep  with  you?" 

"Why  not,  dear?  You're  my  honored  guest. 
You're  my  spiritual  daughter.  Jesus  says,  'Inas- 
much as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of 
these,  ye  have  done  it  imto  me.'  Don't  you  un- 
derstand, Lucy?  In  entertaining  you,  I  am  en- 
tertaining Jesus." 


146  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

"My!  Mother,  how  you  must  love  me!  Oh 
but  God  will  bless  you  for  this!" 

Sure-enough  he  has,  over  and  over,  countless 
times,  aye,  even  up  to  the  present  moment.  We 
shall  hear  more  of  Lucy  in  the  next  chapter. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  147 

CHAPTER    XV. 

WE    PLAN    FOR    A    HOME    FOR    RELEASED 
PRISON   GIRLS. 

Hours  had  slipped  away.  We  had  both  been 
silent,  but  I  wondered  whether  Lucy,  like  my- 
self, was  not  sleeping,  but  simply  resting  quietly 
for  fear  of  disturbing  me.  One-thirty,  then  two 
o'clock.     I  whispered: 

"Are  you  asleep,  Lucy.^" 

"No,  Mother  dear,"  she  answered;  "I  haven't 
slept  a  wink  for  thinking  of  the  goodness  of  God 
and  wishing  lots  of  other  unfortunates  had  such 
good  luck  as  me  tonight." 

"I  also,  Lucy;  furthermore,  I'm  pondering  how 
to  proceed  to  procure  them  a  home  with  nice 
large  grounds  in  which  they  can  work  and  take 
pleasure,  but  I  haven't  any  means.  All  I  now 
own  is  my  bicycle.  I  left  it  for  sale  in  Wood- 
land. Perhaps  God  will  soon  find  a  purchaser; 
if  so,  I  will  take  it  as  a  sign  that  he  wants  me  to 
travel  from  place  to  place  in  their  behalf.  Give 
me  your  hand,  Lucy.  She  clasped  mine  under  the 
covers  whilst  I  prayed  in  a  low  tone,  "Father,  art 
thou  impressing  us  to  seek  a  home  for  the  girls,  a 
home  removed  from  city  temptations  and  environ- 
ments.^ If  so,  I  pray  thee,  seal  the  impression 
with   thy    Word.     In    Jesus'    name    I    ask    this"; 


148  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

and  Lucy  fervently  echoed  my  Amen.  Next  I 
lighted  the  lamp  on  the  little  stand  by  our  bed- 
side, on  which  lay  a  writing  tablet,  a  pencil,  and 
my  Bible.  Reverently  opening  the  latter,  we  found 
ourselves  looking  down  upon  Genesis,  twelfth  chap- 
ter, first  and  ninth  verses.  Thus  did  our  Father 
seal  the  impression  of  the  Holy  Spirit  with  his 
Word.  "We  will  prepare  for  a  long  trip,  Lucy," 
I  said,  "and  when  we  start  we  will  journey  toward 
the  South." 

Without  further  notification,  I  received  by  mail, 
within  the  following  fortnight,  a  cheque  for 
twenty  dollars  (purchase  price  of  wheel).  This 
amount  procured  us  some  necessaries,  paid  a  few 
small  bills  and  our  fares  to  Redwood  City,  leaving 
us  with  the  sum  total  of  sixty  cents. 

Before  proceeding  on  this  undertaking,  we  oc- 
cupied every  hour  of  the  day,  with  but  few  ex- 
ceptions, in  active  preparation;  our  evenings  and 
Sundays  we  spent  in  church  or  prison,  or  among 
the  outcasts.  I  am  indebted  to  Lucy  for  admis- 
sion into  many  heretofore  forbidden  places,  where 
she  would  be  invariably  welcomed  with  such  a 
greeting  as  this: 

"Well,  hello.  Kid!  glad  to  see  you.  When 
did  you  get  out?     How's  all  the  rest  of  them?" 

"This  is  my  dear  Mother  Roberts,"  she  would 
say.     "Please  welcome  her  for  my  sake.     I  want 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  149 

to  tell  you  I'm  not  one  of  you  any  longer.  I've 
found  my  Savior.  Don't  I  look  different?  Don't 
I  look  happy.''" 

"You  bet  yer  life  y'  do,  Kid.  Say,  we  don't 
mind  being  preached  to  if  you'll  do  the  preaching. 
Go  on  girlie,  pitch  in,  we-uns  would  like  to  hear 
from  the  likes  of  you,  cause  we  know  you,"  etc. 

The  precious  girl!  How  she  enthused  all  of  us 
as  she  told  the  wonderful  story  and  implored  them 
to  seek  the  Savior!  Always  we  finished  with 
prayer.  Even  bar-tenders,  saloon-keepers,  and 
women  overseers  over  the  girls  in  the  various  dives 
were  touched  by  Lucy's  brief  messages  from  God. 
The  time  was  all  too  short  on  these  occasions.  As 
we  said  our  final  farewells  (July  1,  1903),  it  was 
impossible  to  count  the  number  of  those  who  said: 
"Y've  done  me  good,  Lucy,  Y've  done  me  good. 
Yes,  I  mean  to  heed  what  y've  said,  I  know  it's 
right.  Stick  to  it,  girlie,  stick  to  it."  And  not  a 
few  said  they  had  sold  their  last  drink  or  had 
drunk  their  last  drop. 

I  wish  you  could  appreciate  how  wonderful  all 
this  is  to  me  now  (Sept.  5,  1911)  whilst  recalling 
and  writing  it,  here  in  my  quiet,  pretty  room  in 
the  Gospel  Trumpet  Company's  home  for  their 
consecrated  workers.  It  seems  as  though  but  a 
few  days,  instead  of  years,  have  elapsed  since  that 
marvelously  profitable  time. 


UO  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

In  the  interval  between  her  coming  to  me  and 
our  departure  we  visited,  as  frequently  as  possi- 
ble, the  prison,  the  place  of  her  incarceration, 
once  taking  a  modest  treat,  purchased  by  a  little 
of  Lucy's  pocket-money.  I  can  not  describe  the 
appreciation  of  each  prisoner  as  they  received,  at 
her  hands,  a  small  package  of  something  toothsome 
done  up  in  a  pretty  paper  napkin,  with  an  appro- 
priate text  inscribed  thereon.  This  distribution 
was  followed  by  a  special  meeting,  for  the  most 
part  conducted  by  my  dear  Lucy. 

After  the  tearful  farewells  had  been  said,  we 
went  into  Captain  and  Mrs.  Kincaid's  quarters, 
where  the  latter  furnished  us  with  the  names  of 
some  for  whom  she  desired  our  special  interest 
in  the  event  of  our  coming  in  touch  with  them. 
They  were  all  ex-prisoners,  some  of  whom  we  will 
herfeafter  mention. 

As  though  to  give  us  a  specially  bright  send- 
off,  the  sun  arose  in  glorious  splendor  on  that 
second  day  of  July.  Following  a  very  light  early 
breakfast,  Lucy  and  I,  accompanied  to  the  de- 
pot by  some  Christian  friends,  one  of  whom  was 
the  late  Brother  Mosby,  soon  boarded  the  train 
at  Twenty-fourth  and  Valencia  Streets,  and  in  a 
short  time  arrived  at  Redwood  City. 

"What  are  we  going  to  do  next?"  inquired  Lucy. 
"You  don't  know  any  one  here,  do  you,  Mother?" 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  161 

"No,  dear.  I'm  going  to  ask  the  depot-agent 
if  he  can  tell  me  who  is  the  most  consecrated 
Christian  in  this  town." 

Imagine,  if  you   can,   his   astonishment. 

"Say  that  over  again,  madam,"  he  said. 

I  repeated  my  inquiry,  whilst  he  scratched  his 
head  and  pondered  over  this  simple  but  no  doubt 
perplexing  question,  and  also  glanced  at  us  as 
much  as  to  say,  "I  wonder  if  you  are  altogether 
right  in  your  minds?" 

Leaving  in  his  keeping  our  two  telescope  bas- 
kets, containing  all  our  earthly  belongings,  we  soon 
reached  the  residence  of  the  Congregational  minis- 
ter, only  to  discover  that  he,  with  his  family,  had 
left  that  very  morning  for  his  summer  vacation. 
His  neighbors  directed  us  to  the  Methodist  minis- 
ter, an  old  gentleman,  who  received  us  very  cor- 
dially, said  many  encouraging  words  on  learning 
of  the  nature  of  our  errand,  and  wished  us  God's 
blessing  as  we  took  our  departure  to  the  next  place, 
at  that  moment  unknown. 

I  now  decided  to  make  our  errand  known  to  the 
editors  of  the  local  papers.  We  found  two,  in 
close  proximity  to  each  other.  They  received  us 
kindly,  inspected  the  letters  of  endorsement  with 
which  I  had  provided  myself  before  leaving  San 
Francisco,  and  took  notes. 

Noon-time  found  my  faith  not  suflScient  to  in- 


152  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

vest  our  capital  or  even  a  portion  of  it  for  the 
food  we  now  so  much  needed.  Moreover,  it  was 
extremely  warm,  and  we  were  clad  in  heavy  gar- 
ments, suitable  to  the  colder  climate  from  which 
we  had  come.  I  made  the  same  inquiry  of  the 
editor  of  the  Gazette  as  I  had  made  of  the  depot- 
agent,  and  I  shall  never  forget  the  editor's  sur- 
prised smile  as  he  replied:  "Really,  Mrs.  Roberts, 
I'm  the  last  one  of  whom  to  inquire,  as  I  make  no 
profession  whatsoever  of  religion.  There  is  a  lady 
living  on  the  edge  of  town,  formerly  of  the  Salva- 
tion Army;  she  might  do." 

It  was  a  long  walk,  or  rather  seemed  so.  We 
soon  discovered  that  this  lady  was  in  no  position  to 
entertain  us  over  night,  and  as  it  was  long  past 
noon,  she  must  have  taken  it  for  granted  that  we 
had  dined.  Before  leaving  I  requested  a  season 
of  prayer.  Her  aged  mother  preceded  her,  I  fol- 
lowed, then  Lucy,  who  drew  tears  from  our  eyes 
by  her  fervent  petition  for  guidance.  After  we 
had  made  our  adieus  and  had  walked  a  few  yards, 
the  daughter  called  and  ran  after  us,  to  inform 
us  that  she  had  just  thought  of  the  landlady  of  the 
Tremont  Hotel  (Mrs.  Ayers).  "Her  dining-room 
is  closed  for  the  season.  She  is  a  very  kind- 
hearted  woman.  I  have  no  doubt  of  her  invit- 
ing you  to  remain  under  her  roof  when  she  learns 
your    errand,"    said   this    newly-found    friend.      I 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  158 

thanked  her  most  sincerely,  and  we  proceeded  once 
more  to  town. 

I  again  called  upon  the  Gazette  editor,  for  I 
had  it  in  mind  to  hold  a  street-meeting  that  eve- 
ning and  make  public  announcement  of  our  er- 
rand. He  promised  the  presence  of  himself  and 
of  others  in  the  event  of  my  doing  so. 

"Mother  dear,"  inquired  poor,  tired,  hungry, 
over-heated  Lucy,  "I  wonder  if  God  really  wants 
us  to  hunt  a  home  for  the  girls,  after  all?  I  can't 
stand  much  more." 

"Neither  can  I,  dear  child,"  I  replied,  "but 
we'll  ask  him.  Give  me  your  hand."  (We  were 
walking  toward  the  hotel.) 

"Father,"  I  prayed,  "hast  thou  sent  us  on  this 
errand.''  If  so,  please  seal  it  with  money  before 
the  day  ends.  I  ask  in  Jesus'  name."  And  Lucy 
sighed,  "Amen." 

May  God  forever  bless  dear  Mrs.  Ayers,  who 
cordially  welcomed  us,  giving  us  one  of  her  best 
rooms  and  expressing  her  regret  for  inability  to 
supply  meals;  God  abundantly  bless  her  and  her 
dear  ones. 

We  shut  ourselves  in,  knelt  together  at  the  bed- 
side, and  wept — rwept  tears  of  gratitude,  hope, 
and  jpy.  Still  weeping,  both  of  us,  in  broken  lan- 
guage, thanked  the  One  who  never  makes  any 
mistakes    for    guiding   us    aright    and    raising   up 


154  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

friends  in  our  trying  hour,  and  closed  our  prayers 
by  imploring  his  pardon  for  our  having  not  better 
stood  his  testings  and  by  promising  with  his  aid 
to  be  braver  in  the  future. 

I  now  invested  a  quarter  to  have  our  baggage 
immediately  brought  from  the  depot,  then  re- 
freshed ourselves,  and  soon  I  crossed  the  street, 
returning  presently  with  a  nice  fresh  loaf  of  bread 
and  a  dime's  worth  of  bologna.  On  these  and 
water,  we  humbly,  gratefully  dined.  I  have  par- 
taken of  many  costly,  delicious  viands,  but  never 
in  all  my  experience  have  I  enjoyed  a  meal  as  I 
did  that  simple  one.     Hallelujah! 

The  sun  was  gradually  disappearing  when  Lucy 
and  I  crossed  the  street  and  stood  on  the  corner 
in  front  of  Mr.  Behren's  bank.  We  had  carried 
one  of  the  hotel  chairs  over  with  us,  for  I  have 
never  yet  learned  to  play  on  my  autoharp  while 
standing.  I  now  sat  at  a  convenient  angle  in  the 
street.  Lucy  composed  one  of  my  audience  on  the 
sidewalk.  At  first  I  felt  somewhat  timid  and  very 
nervous,  but  not  for  long.  While  the  crowd  was 
gathering,  I  sang  the  song, 

I  know  my  heavenly  Father  knows 

The  storms  that  would  my  way  oppose 

But  he  can  drive  the  clouds  away 
And  turn  my  darkness  into  day. 

The  people  gathered  so  fast  that  before  I  had 
finished  the  second  verse  I  was  well  surrounded. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  155 

There  was  a  fair  sprinkling  of  women,  also  car- 
riages. Before  singing  another  song,  I  took  ad- 
vantage of  the  situation  to  tell  my  audience  why 
I  was  in  Redwood  City  and  on  that  street  corner. 
If  God  ever  gave  me  liberty  of  speech  this  was 
the  occasion.  After  I  had  finished  my  address, 
which  was  not  very  long,  one  of  my  audience, 
named  Lewis  as  I  soon  learned,  stepped  forward, 
took  off  his  hat,  and  spoke  as  follows: 

"Ladies  and  Gentlemen:  I  for  one  am  convinced 
of  this  stranger's  earnestness  and  the  needs  of 
such  a  home  as  she  desires  to  get.  Let's  give  her 
a  collection.  We're  going  to  squander  lots  of 
Fourth  of  July  money  day  after  tomorrow.  Here's 
my  quarter,  whose  next?" 

The  money  kept  dropping,  dropping,  dropping 
into  that  hat,  nickels,  dimes,  quarters  until  the 
sound  made  me  nearly  shout  for  joy.  It  was  all  I 
could  do  to  contain  myself. 

Then  some  one  in  a  carriage  sent  a  request  for 
me  to  sing  again.  I  gladly  responded,  after  which 
my  audience  bowed  with  uncovered  heads  whilst 
I  thanked  the  loving  heavenly  Father  and  pro- 
nounced the  benediction.  Thus  gloriously  ended 
my  first  street  meeting  conducted  without  other 
human  aid. 

We  were  the  happy  possessors  of  $13.20  toward 
the  fund  for  the  promised  home,  and  no  mortals 


156  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

on  earth  retired  that  night  more  grateful  and 
happy  than  dear  Lucy  and  her  "Mother"  Roberts. 
To  God  be  all  the  glory  and  praise  forever. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  157 

CHAPTER    XVI. 

SANTA  CLARA  EXPERIENCES — THE  SAN  JOSE 
HOME. 

All  the  next  day  we  remained  in  Redwood  City 
in  anticipation  of  receiving  mail^  and  our  hopes 
were  realized.  There  were  letters  of  cheer  and 
encouragement  from  Mrs.  Dorcas  Spencer,  State 
Secretary  W.  C.  T,  U. ;  Mrs.  Augusta  C.  Bain- 
bridge,  State  Superintendent  Purity  W.  C.  T.  U.; 
Mrs.  Elizabeth  Kauffman,  matron  of  the  Home  of 
Peace ;  the  chaplain  of  the  Sailors'  Home,  in  which 
place  I  had  held  frequent  meetings;  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
George  S.  Montgomery;  Judge  George  Cabaniss; 
Captain  and  Mrs.  Kincaid,  the  superintendent  and 
matron  of  the  county  jail.  Branch  No.  3,  and  other 
friends  alike  interested.  Also,  Lucy  heard  from 
her  people.  It  gives  me  pleasure  to  copy  one  of 
my  letters: 

622   Golden   Gate   Avenue, 
San  Francisco.  Cal. 
June  30,  1903. 
Mrs.  Roberts. 
My  dear  Sister: 

How  I  do  praise  the  Lord  for  laying:  that  bur- 
den on  you!  I  have  prayed  for  It  so  long.  I 
knew  he  would  lay  it  somewhere  soon.  The 
Woman's  Christian  Temperance  Union  have  a 
special  department  for  Jail  work,  and  some  lovely 
Christian  women  In  charge.  The  State,  county  and 
local  superintendents  of  Jail,  hospital,  purity, 
mother's  work,  evangelistic  and  other  departments 


158  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

would  be  g-lad  to  help  you.  I  am  State  super- 
intendent of  purity.  Let  me  know  how  I  can  help 
you.  ...  If  you  want  the  directory  you  can  get  It 
at  headquarters,  132  McAllister  Street.  You  can 
show  this  letter  to  either  of  the  ladies  there,  and 
they  will  know  I  endorse  you  and  your  work.  .  .  . 

Tours  in  love, 

A.  C.  Bainbridsre. 

We  decided  to  go  to  Santa  Clara  on  the  morrow. 
Accordingly,  the  next  day  we  were  mingling  with 
a  great  throng  of  merry-makers — twith  them,  but 
not  of  them. 

Mr.  Lewis'  mother,  with  whom  we  had  dined 
the  previous  evening,  had  recommended  a  certain 
private  boarding-house.  Hither  we  repaired,  and 
were  fortunate  in  finding  a  Christian  hostess,  who 
made  us  very  welcome.  Lucy  helped  her,  she  hav- 
ing a  great  Fourth  of  July  crowd  for  meals,  whilst 
I  rested. 

On  the  following  day  I  went  forth  in  quest  of 
means  to  help  swell  the  fund  started  in  Redwood 
City.  I  walked  and  talked  all  day;  toward  eve- 
ning I  returned  to  our  boarding-house  with  only  a 
poor  report.  Lucy  greeted  me  cheerfully  and  said: 

"I'm  going  to  earn  your  board  and  mine.  Mother 
dear.  The  landlady  needs  help;  so  as  long  as 
we're  here,  it  will  not  be  necessary  to  touch  the 
fund.  You  needn't  think  you  are  to  bear  all  the 
burden.  No,  indeed.  I'm  going  to  do  my  part, 
too." 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  150 

"God  bless  you,  Lucy!  I'm  so  thankful!"  I  re- 
plied. "How  good  the  dear  Lord  is  and  how  won- 
derfully he  provides !" 

At  the  end  of  nearly  a  week  of  toil,  I  had  ap- 
parently made  little  impression.  One  night  as  I 
sat  in  our  room,  too  tired  to  go  to  the  dining-room, 
Lucy  came  in,  took  off  my  shoes  and  stockings, 
cried  over  the  swollen,  blistered,  condition  of  my 
feet,  bathed  them,  made  me  retire,  and  brought  to 
the   bedside   a  tempting  meal. 

The  next  day,  after  making  a  few  calls  and 
receiving  some  small  sums  by  way  of  encourage- 
ment, I  felt  impressed  to  return  to  our  room  and 
then  go  to  a  handsome  home  directly  across  the 
street  from  the  boarding-house.  Soon  I  was  ring- 
ing the  bell.  A  lady  greeted  me  with  a  lovely 
smile,  bade  me  enter,  and  encouraged  me  in  mak- 
ing known  my  errand.  Calling  her  husband,  she 
asked  me  to  repeat  my  story.  When  I  took  my 
departure,  after  receiving  overwhelming  kindness 
and  a  cordial  invitation  to  return  when  conven-* 
ient,  I  held  in  my  hand  my  first  gold  piece  for 
the  fund.  The  donors  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Chas. 
E.  Moore,  who  have  been  my  warm,  interested, 
personal  friends  from  that  time  to  this.  They  did 
all  in  their  power  to  aid  me,  particularly  through 
introductions  to  people  of  means  in  their  home 
town. 


160  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

Soon  I  was  led  to  make  myself  known  to  the 
pastors  of  the  various  churches,  one  of  whom 
agreed  to  give  me  an  opportunity  of  addressing 
an  audience  from  his  pulpit.  His  name  was 
Thurston,  and  I  shortly  learned  that  he  was  a 
nephew  of  the  people  with  whom  I  had  traveled 
in  gospel-wagon  work.  The  following  notice  in 
the  Santa  Clara  News  of  July  7,  1903,  heralded 
the  prospective  meeting: 

FOB    A    BESCUE    HOME. 

Mrs.  Florence  Roberts,  who  is  known  in  San 
Francisco  as  the  Rescue  Missionary  and  Singing 
Evangelist,  will  address  the  public  in  the  Baptist 
church  next  Sunday  on  the  subject  of  the  estab- 
lishment of  a  non-sectarian  home  for  women 
near  San  Francisco. 

She  comes  highly  endorsed  by  prominent  citi- 
zens and  Christian  societies.  There  are,  she  states, 
thirty-five  thousand  women  on  this  coast  to  be 
reached,  and  she  is  endeavoring  to  procure  funds 
for  a  home  to  which  they  can  come  for  ref- 
ormation. A  free-will  offering  will  be  taken  at 
the  conclusion  of  the  address. 

■  Prior  to  this  meeting  I  learned  of  a  little  res- 
cue home  in  San  Jose,  the  adjacent  city,  and  one 
afternoon  Lucy  and  I  visited  it.  We  went  with- 
out previous  announcement,  for  I  wanted  to  sat- 
isfy myself  as  to  its  merits.  It  was  a  pretty 
old-fashioned  cottage  of  about  eight  rooms,  lo- 
cated at  637  East  St.  John  Street.  There  were 
but  two  girls — one   a   mother,  the   other  a   pros- 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  161 

pective  one — and,  sad  to  relate,  a  most  ineflScient 
matron.  I  quickly  took  in  the  situation,  and, 
for  the  sake  of  the  inmates,  privately  decided  to 
accept  erelong  her  invitation  to  sojourn  tem- 
porarily under  that  roof. 

After  I  had  thoroughly  canvassed  Santa  Clara, 
I,  acting  upon  divine  directions,  took  Lucy  and 
went  to  the  San  Jose  rescue  home. 

Before  long  it  became  my  sorrowful  duty  to 
report  conditions  as  they  existed.  The  president 
of  the  board  of  managers.  Rev.  J.  N.  Crawford, 
was  absent  on  his  summer  vacation.  Upon  learn- 
ing that  the  vice-president,  Mrs.  Remington  (now 
deceased),  was  sojourning  in  San  Francisco,  I 
boarded  the  train  and  a  few  hours  later  was  in 
earnest  discussion  with  Mrs.  Remington  and  her 
friend.  Miss  Sisson.  This  consultation  termin- 
ated in  their  sincere  plea  for  me  to  take  upon  my- 
self certain  responsibilities,  concerning  which  I 
promised  to  pray.  The  result  was  that  I  felt 
led  to  go  further  south  for  a  while,  but  not  before 
some  better  conditions  existed  for  those  two  poor 
girls  and  others  who  might  follow. 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  WITH  THE  OUTCAST.  163 

CHAPTER   XVII. 
CALLIE'S    WONDERFUL    STORY. 

One  day  while  I  was  visiting  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Helms,  Sr.,  in  Santa  Clara,  good  friends  of  the 
cause,  the  latter  said: 

"Sister  Roberts,  have  you  ever  met  Callie  — ■ —  ?" 

"No,  Sister  Helms,"  I  answered,  "but  I  have 
heard  of  her.  She  was  often,  before  my  mission- 
ary work  there,  an  inmate  of  the  county  jail. 
Branch  3,  and  gave  much  trouble  when  a  pris- 
oner." 

"I  want  to  let  you  know  she  is  wonderfully 
converted  and  one  of  our  most  remarkable  mis- 
sionaries. Try  and  take  time  to  call  on  her.  She 
works  in  the  R — * —  boarding-house  and  will  be 
glad  to  see  you,  for  she  knows  of  you  quite  well. 
Ask  her  to  tell  you  her  story.  You  never  heard 
anything  equal  to  it;  furthermore,  you  never  have, 
I  doubt  ever  will,  meet  any  other  like  her.  She 
is  a  living  marvel  of  God's  power  to  save  to  the 
uttermost /* 

The  following  afternoon,  -leaving  kind-hearted 
Lucy  (without  offense  to  the  matron  of  the  home) 
to  administer  to  the  comforts  of  the  inmates,  I 
went  to  the  place  designated.  Soon  there  came 
into  my  presence  a  smiling,  healthy-looking  woman 
about  forty  years  of.  age,  who  told  me  that  she 


164  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

was  the  person  for  whom  I  had  inquired.  No 
sooner  did  I  mention  my  name  than  she  threw 
her  arms  about  me  exclaiming,  "God  love  you, 
Mother  Roberts!  God  love  you!  It's  good  for 
sore  eyes  to  see  you" — and  she  rattled  on.  When 
I  told  her  the  nature  of  my  errand,  she  replied 
that  she  would  come  to  the  home  that  evening  and 
would  then  relate  the  story  of  her  life  and  won- 
derful conversion.  She  was  on  hand  at  the  ap- 
pointed time,  and  soon  Lucy  and  I  were  listen- 
ing to  what  I  will  now  relate. 

"I  first  saw  the  light  of  day  in  the  slums  of  St. 
Louis,  Mo.  I  never  knew,  nor  did  any  one  ever 
tell  me,  who  my  father  and  mother  were.  All  I 
know  about  those  days  and  up  to  my  fourteenth 
year  is  that  one  or  another  of  the  women  of  that 
neighborhood  fed,  clothed,  and  sheltered  me.  I 
had  no  schooling;  didn't  know  how  to  read  or 
write  till  a  few  years  ago.  I  never  heard  much 
besides  bad  language,  seldom  saw  anything  but 
drinking,  gambling,  and  so  forth;  never  saw  the 
inside  of  a  church  and  seldom  saw  the  outside, 
'cause  I  wasn't  out  of  my  own  neighborhood  very 
much.  It  was  too  much  like  a  fish  being  out  of 
water.  Never  heard  the  name  of  God  or  Jesus 
Christ  except  when  they  were  taken  in  vain,  and 
never  troubled  my  head  to  find  out  who  was  God 
or  who  was  Jesus  Christ. 


WIITH    THE    OUTCAST.  16ff 

"Before  I  was  fifteen  years  old,  I  married  a 
gambler.  He  was  a  fine-looking  fellow,  consid- 
erably older  than  me,  and  sometimes  had  a  pUe  of 
money. 

"Yes,  he  gave  me  what  I  asked  for.  Some- 
times I  spent  quite  a  bit  on  dress  and  treating  my 
friends,  'cause  there  ain't  a  stingy  bone  in  my  body. 
I've  no  use  for  stingy  folk,  have  you? 

"Tom  wasn't  a  heavy  drinker,  but  he  used  to 
'hit  the  pipe.'  " 

"What  is  'hit  the  pipe,'  Callie.''"  I  inquired. 

"Don't  you  know.''  Why,  smoke  opium.  Also, 
he  had  the  morphine  habit,  and  if  anything,  that's 
the  worst  one  of  the  two,  but,  between  you  and 
me,  there's  little  or  no  choice.  It  wasn't  long  be- 
fore I,  too,  commenced  taking  morphine,  and  kept 
it  up  until  two  years  ago.     Look  here!" 

With  that  she  stripped  up  the  sleeves  of  her 
dress,  and  we  were  gazing  at  arms  which  from  the 
shoulder  to  wrist  were  one  mass  of  tiny  bluish 
spots.  I  doubt  if  there  was  room  to  place  a  pin 
between  them. 

"Oh!     Callie,  what  are  they?" 

"Shots — shots  from  the  hypodermic  needle  that 
we  used  to  inject  the  morphine. 

"Hurt?  No,  not  nmch;  besides,  we  get  to  be 
such  slaves  to  it  that  we'd  gladly  hurt  our  bodies 
for  the  sake  of  it.     It's  the  most  demoralizing, 


166  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

hard-to-break  habit  on  earth.  But  glory  to  God! 
I'm  saved  and  sanctified  now,  and  I'll  tell  you  how 
it  came  about. 

"I  suppose  I'd  been  serving  my  fifteenth  sen- 
tence, to  say  the  least,  in  Branch  No.  3,  and  they'd 
put  me  down  in  the  dungeon,  as  usual,  as  they 
most  always  had  to  do  for  the  first  few  days, 
'cause  I  wanted  the  drug  so  bad  (they  give  you 
some  there,  but  it  never  was  enough)  that  I 
used  to  disturb  everybody,  and  besides,  was  very 
troublesome.  I'll  never  forget  the  day  when  I 
tried  to  knock  my  brains  out  on  the  dark  cement 
floor,  but  couldn't;  so  I  cried,  'O  God!  if  there  is 
a  God,  and  some  of  these  missionary  folk  that 
come  here  say  there  is  a  God,  and  a  Christ  what 
can  save,  save  me,  save  me,  please  save  me!  I 
don't  want  to  go  to  hell !     I've  had  hell  enough !     I 

don't  want  to  go  to  hell!' 

**#*         ****** 

"There  was  a  little  quiet-looking  old  lady  visit- 
ing the  jail  that  day,  and  she  asked  Matron  Kin- 
caid  if  she  couldn't  go  down  and  try  to  help  that 
poor  afflicted  soul  in  the  dungeon,  and  Mrs.  Kin- 
caid  gave   permission. 

"Mother  Roberts,  her  very  presence  was  sooth- 
ing, and  pretty  soon  she  put  her  arm  around  me 
and  prayed.  Oh,  how  she  prayed  to  her  God  and 
Savior   to   come,    and   come   quickly,   to   help    and 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  167 

save  me  through  and  through!  By  and  by  she 
told  me  of  Jesus  who  died  for  sinners.  I  couldn't 
bear  to  part  with  her,  but  I  had  to  let  her  go 
soon^  she  promising  to  come  back  again.  I  was 
still  suffering,  but  after  hearing  her,  and  her  be- 
ing so  kind  to  dirty,  loathsome  me,  I  made  up  my 
mind  I'd  try  to  'grin  and  bear'  the  misery  if  it 
took  my  very  life. 

"Next  time  she  came,  I  was  out  of  the  dun- 
geon, up  on  the  next  floor  in  my  cell.  Say,  Mother 
Roberts,  you  wouldn't  have  known  me  if  you  had 
seen  me  then  and  as  I  look  now.  I  didn't  weigh 
ninety  pounds.  Now  I  weigh  close  onto  one  hun- 
dred and  seventy.     Praise  the  Lord! 

"I  was  always  a  mass  of  filth  and  rags  when- 
ever the  cops   [police]   would  run  me  in. 

"What  did  they  arrest  me  for?  Why  for  steal- 
ing of  course.  We'll  swipe  anything  to  supply 
ourselves  and  our  chums  with  'dope'  [morphine, 
cocaine,  opium,  etc.].  That  last  time  I'd  been 
sentenced  for  three  months.  When  my  time  was 
up,  my  missionary  friend  called  for  me,  and  we 
came  down  on  the  train  to  San  Jose.  She  hired  a 
hack  at  the  depot;  wasn't  she  considerate?  God 
bless   her ! 

"When  we  reached  this  home,  the  matron  [Sis- 
ter Griffith]  met  me  at  the  door,  and,  said  she, 
'Welcome,  dear  child,  welcome  in  the  name  of  the 


168  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

Lord.'  Then  she  put  her  arm  around  me,  and 
led  me  into  this  very  room  we  are  sitting  in  now. 
I  fell  in  love  with  her  right  on  the  spot.  She  had 
a  lovely  face  and  the  beautifullest  white  hair  I 
ever  saw. 

"I  asked  her  to  please  let  me  go  to  bed,  and 
would  she  give  me  a  room  where  I  couldn't  es- 
cape; also  to  please  take  away  all  my  clothes,  all 
but  the  bedding  and  a  nightdress.  I  told  her  I'd 
come  there  to  fight  it  out,  that  I'd  been  in  hell 
on  earth  for  years,  that  for  twenty-seven  years  I'd 
been  a  'dope'  fiend,  and  that  I  wanted  all  of 
them  who  knew  how  to  pray  to  pray  for  me,  'cause 
I  knew  there  was  a  Christ  and  a  God,  but  I  hadn't 
found  him  yet.  She  did  as  I  asked,  and  after 
a  while  tried  to  get  me  to  eat,  but  I  couldn't.  Did 
you  know  the  'dope'  fiends  lose  their  appetites  for 
everything  but  the  drug?  Yes,  they  do.  I  often 
wondered  what  kept  us  alive.  It  surely  wasn't 
the  food  we  ate. 

"My,  what  a  struggle  I  had!  what  a  fight  for 
the  next  three  weeks !  for  I  was  determined  from 
the  time  my  sentence  expired,  never,  if  it  killed 
me,  to  touch  the  poison  again,  and  I  was  bound 
to  keep  my  word.  God  alone  knows  what  I  suf- 
fered. One  morning  a  little  before  daylight  (I'd 
heard  the  clock  strike  one,  two,  three,  somewhere) 
all  of  a  sudden  the  room  was  lit  up  with  a  strange 


SCENE    IN    A    MORPHINE    DEN. 


168 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  169 

soft  light,  and  somebody  was  whispering  (or  it 
seemed  like  whispering),  'Daughter,  be  of  good 
cheer.  Thou  art  healed.'  Oh  but  I  felt  beautiful, 
beautiful !  and  soon  slept  the  sweetest.  .  Not  an 
ache  or  pain.  Just  like  a  new-born  baby.  When  I 
woke  up  I  could  tell  the  girls  were  at  breakfast. 
I  took  my  stick  and  knocked  on  the  floor.  Pretty 
soon  Sister  Griffith  came  up,  and  I  told  her.  She 
cried  with  me  for  very  joy,  and  knelt  by  my  bed- 
side to  thank  God  for  answer  to  prayer,  then 
went  down  to  tell  the  family.  Glory,  glory  be  to 
God  the  Father,  Son  and  Holy  Spirit!  I  was 
saved  and  I  knew  it — saved  through  and  through. 

"From  that  on  I  gained  rapidly,  enjoyed  my 
meals,  and  pretty  soon  was  able  to  go  down-stairs. 
No  fear  any  more.  I've  never  wanted  the  drug 
from  that  day  to  this,  and  I'm  trying  by  the  grace 
of  God  to  help  other  poor  souls  like  afflicted.  Say, 
Mother  Roberts,  when  you  go  to  San  Francisco 
again,  will  you  let  me  go  with  you?  I  want  to 
surprise  the  folk  at  the  jail  and  in  the  morphine 
dens;  besides,  I'll  show  you  a  place  you  never 
have  seen  or  heard  tell  of,  where  these  poor  souls 
live — a  place  condemned  by  the  authorities,  but 
not  torn  down  yet." 

I  told  her  that,  God  willing,  I  should  be  very 
glad  to  have  her  accompany  me.  Then  she  took 
out  of  her  pocket  a  letter,  saying,  as  she  did  so,  "J 


170  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

wrote  this  to  some  one  you  know."  (Here  she  de- 
scribed one  of  the  poor  prisoners.)  "You  can 
take  it  up  to  your  room  and  read  it  if  you  like,  and 
mail  it  for  me  tomorrow,  please." 

Soon  we  joined  the  rest  of  the  family  in  their 
evening  devotions,  and  Callie  went  back  to  her 
place. 

I  read  and  reread  that  wonderful  letter  before 
retiring,  and  as  soon  as  convenient  the  next  morn- 
ing I  telephoned  to  Callie  to  ask  whether  I  might 
copy  it  before  mailing  it.  She  gladly  gave  me 
permission,  and  now  I  give  you  the  letter  almost 
word  for  word: 

San  Jose,  Cal. 

Aug.    18.    1903. 
Dear  Nan: 

No  doubt  you  will  be  somewhat  surprised  to  re- 
ceive this  from  me,  but  it  is  surprising:  and  wonderful 
the  way  God  has  of  lifting-  us  up  out  of  sin.  Now 
what  has  been  done  for  me  will  be  done  for  you  if  you 
will  only  let  him  have  his  way  with  you.  Surely  "the 
way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard,"  and  the  devil  is  a 
poor  pay-master.  I  know  you  are  so  tired  of  that 
life  that  you  will  be  willing  to  say,  "O  Lord,  anything 
but  this;  'better  a  dry  crust  of  bread  with  quietness 
than  a  house  full  of  sacrifice,  with  strife.' "  The 
truth  is  a  bitter  pill,  and  many  have  choked  to  death 
on  it,  but  while  "the  mourners  go  about  the  streets," 
the   truth    goes    on   just    the    same.      Now   my   greatest 

sacrifice    was    .      With    him    the    house    was 

full  of  strife,  for  I  had  to  produce  for  it  all,  and  no 
peace  in  the  end;  so  to  get  away  from  the  whole  thing 
and  keep  out  of  San  Quentin  [one  of  the  State  prisons] 
I  had  to  not  only  die  to  him,  but  myself.  So  now,  glory 
to  God!  I  am  sanctified  and  my  sins  and  dead  yester- 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  171 


days  are  under  the  blood,  and  just  as  the  branch  Is 
to  the  vine,  I  am  joined  to  Christ  and  I  know  he 
is  mine. 

Nan,  as  I  look  back  to  Mrs.  J 's  time   [a  former 

jail    matron]    and    the    hell    we    had,    trying    to    live 

through,  and  of  poor  Minnie  B and  Minnie  E , 

who    have    grone    out    in    the    darkness — [Minnie    B 

was  dead,  Minnie  E—. —  dying,  when  the  trusty  rushed 
into  the  room  where  the  matron,  Mrs.  J ,  was  en- 
gaged in  a  game  of  cards,  and  begged  her  to  come 
quickly,  to  which  she  replied,  "Let  her  die;  'tis  a  pity 
a  few  more  of  you  don't  go  the  same  way"  and  then 
coolly  continued  the  game  she  was  playing.]  If  we 
had  continued  along  on  that  plane,  such  would  have 
been  our  fate  also;  but  he,  our  Lord,  is  so  patient  and 
long-suffering  that  the  moment  we  are  willing  to  give 
up  and  let  him  have  his  way  with  us,  then  the 
work  begins  for  our  good.  Now,  Nan,  I  am  only  too 
glad  to  be  able  to  help  you  in  any   way   I  can. 

I  owe  the  H of  T $10.     I  stole  $40  for  "dope" 

from  them  while  in  the  "hypo"  state.  I  have  now  paid 
back  $30,  and  when  your  time  is  up,  I  will  be  able 
to  pay  your  fare  down  here,  and  your  board  until  you 
can  see  and  know  for  yourself  what  real  liberty  there 
is   in   Christ. 

Everything  did  not  go  just  as  I  liked  at  first;  but, 
as  you  know,  a  good  thing  is  not  easily  gotten,  and 
if  you  will  only  try  half  as  hard  for  liberty  in  Christ 
as  you  do  for  those  you  love,  it  will  not  be  long  ere 
you  are  out  and  out  for  Christ,  and  your  dead  yes- 
terdays will  be  as  though  they  never  had  been,  and  if 
you  will  let  me  be  a  mother  to  you,  I  would  divide 
my  last  drop  of  blood  to  save   your   soul. 

O  God!  bless  my  erring  sisters,  "who  love  not 
wisely,  but  too  well,  bearing  their  sorrows  alone  in 
silence  with  an  anguish  none  can  tell."  Now,  dear, 
weigh  this  well,  and  "choose  this  day  which  you  will 
serve,"'  God  or  mammon.  I  am  not  the  only  "hypo" 
fiend  that  the  Lord  sees  fit  to  take  out  of  hell;  so  be 
of  good  cheer,  for  he  has  said,  "I  will  never  leave  thee 
nor  forsake  thee." 

Start  in  with  a  fervent   prayer,    saying,    "Create  in 


172  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

me  a  clean  heart,  O  Grod,  and  renew  a  rigrht  spirit 
within  me."  Just  as  soon  as  you  are  willing  to  take 
your  Savior  for  your  satisfying-  portion  every  door 
^f  hope  will  be  open  to  you  with  outstretched  arms. 
My  strength  is  in  God  and  I  want  you  to  feel  some 
of  It.     I  do  not  know  the  extent  of  it. 

Poor    M !    I    feel    sorry    for    her.      Mrs.    Roberta 

called  on  me.  She  is  O.  K.,  and-  her  heart  is  in  her 
work.  Dear  child  of  God,  she  Is  sowing  seeds  of 
kindness  all  along  her  line.  May  God  bless  her!  The 
little  lady  who  is  with  her  [Lucy]  speaks  highly  of 
you,  Nan,  and  we  all  see  the  Lord  In  you  If  you  will 

only   give  up  all   to  him.      Tell   Mrs.   I   still   have 

faith  for  her  [the  dignified-looking  white-haired  pris- 
oner already  spoken  of],  for  God  is  still  looking  around 
for   the   impossible   things,   to   move    mountains.      Love 

to  K .  G ,  Mrs.  S ,  Mollie  R ,  and  all  the 

rest  of  the  girls. 

Now,  Nan,  we  have  seen  the  tough  side  of  life 
together;  so  come  on  out  and  up,  and  say,  "With  the 
help  of  God  I  will  be  a  woman."  That  is  not  your 
element  by  right.  Nan;  so  the  sooner  you  seek,  the 
sooner  you  will  find. 

Now,  good-by,  and  may  God  and  his  holy  angels  guide 
and  protect  you,  and  may  your  whole  spirit,  soul,  and 
body  be  preserved  blameless  until  the  coming  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

Give  my  love  to  all  the  girls.  I  pray  for  you  all 
every    day. 

Callle   . 

P.  S. — To  Mrs.  Captain  Kincald.  I  know  you  will 
be  happy  to  know  I  am  still  true  to  God.  It  pays 
in  the  end;  for  If  we  sow  to  the  flesh,  we  reap  cor- 
ruption, and  if  to  the  Spirit,  everlasting  life.  I  am  a 
Bible  student,  and  as  soon  as  the  Lord  can  trust  me 
with  the  seal  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  I  am  to  preach  the 
gospel  of  Jesus  Christ,  the  power  of  God  unto  salva- 
tion.    Glory,  glory,  glory  for  liberty  in  him!  .  .  . 

I  still  have  your  present  in  mind.  It  is  forthcom- 
ing in   the  near  future. 

Respectfully   yours, 

Callie  . 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  178 

The  only  alterations  I  made  in  this  remarkable 
letter  were  in  some  real  names^  the  spelling,  capi- 
talization, and  punctuation.  Otherwise  it  is  her 
language,  word  for  word. 

Oh!  bless  the  dear  Lord  forever!  What  an  ex- 
ample of 

"Whilst  the  lamp  holds  out  to  bum, 
The  vilest  sinner  may  return"! 

Later  we  paid  our  proposed  visit  to  San  Fran- 
cisco. Our  experience  on  that  occasion  will  be 
found  in  the  next  chapter. 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  WITH  THE  OUTCAST.  175 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

CALLIE    AND    I    VISIT    THE    JAIL,    MORPHINE 
DENS,  AND  THE   MISSION — THE  OUTCOME. 

Some  time  elapsed  before  we  took  that  trip  to- 
gether. I  have  much  to  relate  regarding  the  oc- 
currences during  the  interval,  but  first  let  me  write 
about  our  San  Francisco  trip. 

Shortly  before  Christmas  occasion  required  my 
presence  in  San  Francisco.  I  notified  Callie.  and 
one  morning  bright  and  early  we  reached  that  city. 
We  immediately  repaired  to  Branch  No.  3. 

(Before  I  give  an  account  of  our  experiences, 
please  allow  me  to  relate  an  incident  that  oc- 
curred on  the  train.  In  a  seat  almost  parallel  with 
the  one  we  occupied  sat  two  women,  one  of  whom 
was  richly  dressed.  She  repeatedly  looked  my 
way.  Her  face  seemed  familiar.  Presently  I  ven- 
tured to  accost  her  with  that  fact.     She  smilingly 

replied:  "Of  course  it  is.     I'm  .     You 

came  to  my  house  in  Santa  Cruz  dressed  in  a  Sal- 
vation Army  bonnet.  If  it  hadn't  have  been  for 
that,  you  would  never  have  got  in.  One  of  my  girls 
left  because  of  what  you  said  and  did  that  day. 
I'll  be  glad  to  have  you  call.  I  always  want  to 
help  save  a  girl  if  I  can.  Perhaps  you  can  per- 
suade her  sister."  Hallelujah!  "It  came  to  pass" 
less  than  a  month  later.) 


176  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

The  gate-keeper  passed  us  into  the  grounds,  and 
soon  I  was  being  warmly  greeted  by  Mrs.  Kin- 
caid.  Presently  I  inquired  if  she  recognized  my 
companion.     She  smilingly  shook  her  head. 

"You've  met  her  many  times,  Mrs.  Kincaid,"  I 
said. 

She  guessed  any  but  the  right  person.  Finally 
she  said  slowly: 

"It  might  be  Callie  — • — ;  but  she  was  nothing 
but  a  bag  of  bones;  as  forlorn-looking  a  specimen 
of  humanity  as  I  ever  looked  upon,  whereas  this 
woman  is  fine-looking,  robust,  and  has  a  splendid 
expression.     Surely  it  can't  be  Callie!" 

"But  it  is  Callie.  Look!"  And  Callie  proved 
her  identity  by  pulling  up  her  sleeve — convincing 
evidence  beyond  a  doubt.  Never  did  I  see  matron 
more  delighted.  Presently,  following  some  rapid 
questions  and  answers,  she  said,  "How  would  you 
like  to  surprise  your  former  companions,  Callie.''" 

"Just  what  I  was  hoping  for,  Mrs.  Kincaid," 
Callie  answered. 

"Very  well;  I'll  have  all  of  them  called  into  the 
large  dormitory.     You  wait  here  a  few  minutes." 

There  was  an  enthusiastic  welcome  for  me,  but 
no  one  recognized  my  companion — no,  not  one. 
She  stood  beside  me,  speechless  and  trembling. 
Finally  I  said: 

"Speak  to  them,  dear." 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.       •  177 

"I  can't/*  she  whispered,  and  the  tears  were  in 
her  eyes. 

"Girls,  I've  brought  some  one  with  me  today 
whom  you  all  know  and  know  well,  but  I  see  you 
do  not  recognize  her."      (A  long  silence.) 

"Who  is  she?"  some  one  asked.  (Another  long 
silence.) 

"Show  them  who  you  are,  Callie." 

"Callie?      Callie    ?      Surely    not.    Mother 

Roberts.     She  was,"  etc.,  etc. 

But  she  was  showing  them;  choking  down  her 
sobs  of  joy,  or  rather,  trying  to,  as  she  rolled  up 
her  sleeves  to  convince  them.  Even  so,  they  found 
it  very  difficult  to  believe,  very,  very  difficult. 

I  gladly  retired  to  a  remote  part  of  the  dor- 
mitory, a  grateful  observer  temporarily  forgotten, 
whilst  Callie  was  being  questioned  and  overhauled 
by  about  seventy  delighted  women  and  girls.  They 
went  into  raptures  of  joy,  they  shouted,  they 
wept,  they  hugged  and  kissed  her,  until  she  was 
obliged  to  say,  "Sit  down,  I  want  to  talk  to  you. 
Do,  please." 

Intense  silence  reigned  whilst  she  related  the 
wonderful  story  of  her  conversion  and  sanctifica- 
tion.  There  was  not  a  dry  eye  present.  Then 
she  gave  an  invitation.  Without  one  exception  all 
responded  and  then  knelt.  She  prayed — oh !  how 
she  prayed !  and  some  of  the  women  wet  the  boards 


178  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

with  their  tears  whilst  they,  too_,  called  upon  Cal- 
lie's  Savior  for  pardon  and  mercy.  How  I  wish 
we  might  have  stayed  there  the  remainder  of  the 
day !  but  we  could  not,  for  my  time  was  limited. 
Feelingly  and  reluctantly  we  said  our  "farewells," 
promising  to  come  at  some  future  time  if  God  so 
willed. 

Before  we  left,  they  all  lovingly  inquired  for 
Lucy,  sending  her  many  kind  messages  of  love 
and  remembrance. 

When  we  returned  to  Mrs.  Kincaid's  quarters, 
she  inquired  if  I  should  like  to  see  a  photo  of 
Gallic  as   she   formerly  looked? 

"Indeed,  I  would,"  I  replied. 

Well,  to  this  day  I  do  not  wonder  at  their  failure 
to  recognize  her.  In  that  picture  she  looked  like 
a  dirty,  emaciated,  old  vagabond.  This  is  the  best 
I  can  do  in  the  way  of  description,  dear  reader. 
I  wish  I  had  a  copy  of  her  "Before  and  After" 
to  put  in  this  book.  You  would  be  sure  to  say, 
"Mother  Roberts  did  not  exaggerate  one  iota."  If 
any  of  you  know  Mrs.  Kincaid,  go  to  her  and  ask 
her  whether  she  won't  please  show  it  to  you.  .  .  . 

We  were  soon  on  the  street-car,  and  then  down- 
town, where  I  quickly  transacted  my  business, 
after  which  I  was  once  more  at  Callie's  disposal. 

I  followed  her  to  a  place  on  the  south  of 
Market  Street,   to  a  building  which   resembled  a 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  179 

deserted,  tumble-down  stable  or  blacksmith's  shop 
plastered  with  old  hand-bills  and  posters.  There 
were  some  dirty  old  window-frames  in  the  second 
story,  but  I  do  not  believe  there  was  one  whole 
pane  of  glass  left. 

"This  is  the  place,  Mother  Roberts,"  said  Cal- 
lie. 

"Surely  no  human  beings  dwell  in  such  a  terri- 
ble place  as  this,  Callie,"  I  replied. 

"You  come  with  me  and  see  for  yourself,"  she 
rejoined.  "Don't  you  remember  what  I  told  you? 
I  said  I  would  take  you  to  a  place  you  didn't 
dream  existed.     This  is  the  one." 

Sure-enough.  And  this  was  once  her  home!  She 
opened  a  disreputable  door,  and  we  climbed  a 
dirty  and  fearfully  rickety  stairway;  next  we 
groped  our  way  along  a  dark  passage.  "Mind, 
there's  a  broken  board!  Look  out  you  don't  break 
your  ankle,"  said  Callie.  She  spoke  none  too 
soon.  I  narrowly  escaped  an  accident.  Now  we 
turned  a  corner  and  got  a  little  better  light,  this 
disclosing  another  old  partly-broken-down  stair- 
way with  nearly  all  the  balustrade  gone.  Up  these 
we  climbed,  hugging,  as  we  did  so,  the  filthy  wall, 
for  safety.  On  reaching  the  top  she  rapped  gently 
on  a  cracked  door,  but  received  no  answer.  She 
rapped  louder.  Still  no  answer.  Presently  some 
one    called    from    somewhere    below.        Then    she 


180  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

rapped  still  louder.  This  time  a  man's  voice  in- 
quired, "Who's  there?'  There  was  the  sound  of 
shuffling  footsteps,  and  then  the  door  opened,  dis- 
closing two  women,  one  yoiuig,  one  old,  and  three 
men,  all  young,  but  all  old-looking,  cadaverous, 
starved,  ragged,  filthy,  and  indescribably  loath- 
some. Furthermore,  the  odor  issuing  through  that 
open  doorway  was   almost  intolerable. 

Gallic  knew  all,  with  the  exception  of  the  young 
girl,  and  called  each  by  name;  but,  as  usual,  they 
did  not  recognize  her,  and,  in  the  same  manner 
as  heretofore  described,  had  to  be  convinced,  whilst 
she  again  rehearsed  her  wonderful  experience. 
Presently  she  said:  "I'm  going  to  hunt  up  some 
of  the  others,  and  I'm  going  to  ask  this  lady  lo 
sing  for  you  while  I  am  gone.  She's  brought  her 
autoharp  with  her." 

Up  to  this  time  I  had  not  uttered  a  word.  The 
scene  had  practically  rendered  me  temporarily 
speechless ;  but  now  I  took  a  few  steps  into  the 
room,  whilst  one  of  the  men  found  an  old  soap 
box  and  turned  it  upside  down  for  me  to  sit  on. 
At  a  glance  I  saw  vermin  crawling  in  the  cracks 
of  the  filthy  floor.  Oh !  it  was  awful !  Soon,  how- 
ever, I  lost  sight  of  my  loathsome  surroundings, 
for  in  answer  to  silent  prayer  the  dear  Lord  was 
giving  me  a  message  in  song.  Never  was  there 
closer   attention   than   while   they   listened   to   the 


i 


THE  SONGS  MY  MOTHER  SANG. 

Words  and  Hasic  by  Mrs   Florekcb  ROBERTS. 

Duet  or  Solo. 


ft 


1^ 


-^ — ^'       «^ 


-0~ 


-t—tr 


1. 

One 

day 

1 

found 

a 

pre  - 

cious 

book 

2. 

She 

sang 

a 

-  bout 

the 

pre 

■   CIOUS 

blood 

3 

This 

bless  - 

ed 

sol     - 

dier 

of 

the 

cross 

-^ 


^t^ 


Con  -  tain 
Christ  shed 
To  her 


^^^^ 


mg  man  -  y  a  gem 
on  Cal  -  va  -  ry; 
re  -  ward     has    gone; 


-^ — 


Of  song  my 
And  how,  to 
But      oh,      the 


^^m 


moth    -    er    used    to       sing-  It      takes 

save        our  souls  from    hell,         He      died 
ten    -     der  mem  -  o   -  ries         She      left 


-0-^—0 

me  back  a  - 
in  ag  -  0  - 
in       sa  -  cred 


gam 

ny. 

song! 


A  -  cross     the      vis    -     ta       of       the     years, 
'Come,  sin  -  ners,      to         the     gos  -  pel     feast." 
And.    tho'       I       wan  -  dered    far     from     God, 


-9- 


-#i- 


When.      by  her       lov  -  ing     voice,        Mel    -    0  -  dious 

Me    -    thinks  I       hear     her      still         Sing  -  ing,      as 

And        wast    -     ed      man  -    y      years.        The    songs     my 


3iS 


1 


IE 


■*rt^*^T 


in  -  vi  -  ta  -  tion  came  To  make  the  Lord  my  choice! 
si  -  lent  -  iy  she  prayed,"Lord.  break  that  stub-born  will." 
moth  -  er    used     to     sing      Will    oft  -  times  bring  the  tears. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  188 

song  which  you  will  find  between  these  pages,  en- 
titled "The  Songs  My  Mother  Sang."  Then  I 
knelt  and  prayed,  and  prayed.  "On  that  dirty 
floor.''"  you  ask.  Yes,  dear  reader;  I  quite  for- 
got the  dirt  and  the  vermin.  I  only  saw  souls  go- 
ing to  hell  if  they  didn't  get  help  from  God.  (Af- 
terwards I  observed  that  neither  vermin  nor  dirt 
clung  to  me.) 

When  once  more  conscious  of  my  surround- 
ings, I  discovered  how  dirty  their  faces  were,  for 
now  there  were  clean  channels  on  many  cheeks. 
Their  tears !  One  girl  and  two  men  agreed  to 
forsake  sin,  and  I  was  happy  in  the  thought  of 
conveying  her  to  San  Jose  on  our  return  next  day, 
whilst  Gallic  planned  for  the  men.  We  did  what 
we  could  for  the  time  being  and  then  went  out  into 
the  fresh  air.  I  asked  Gallic  how  many  lived  un- 
der that  roof.  To  my  amazement,  she  said,  "All 
told,  about  forty  just  at  present." 

Her  next  mission  was  to  the  various  places  from 

which  she  had  pilfered,  and  they  were  many.  One 

was  a  harness-shop.  She  addressed  the  old  man  thus : 

"How  d'you  do,  sir?     Do  you  remember  me.''" 

"No,  mam,  I  don't.     Who  are  you?" 

"I'm    a    woman    who    once    stole    a    dog   collar 

from  you  while  your  back  was  turned.     I've  come 

to  pay  for  it.     I'm  converted  now,  but  I  used  to 

be  a  'dope'  fiend." 


184  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

"You  were?     You  don't  look  like  it." 

"No,  because  God,  for  Jesus  Christ's  sake,  for- 
gave all  my  sins,  cured  me  of  all  my  bad  habits, 
and  has  set  me  on  the  solid  Rock,  and  I'm  on  my 
road  to  heaven.  When  you  knew  me  I  was  on  my 
road  to  hell." 

"But  I  never  knew  you." 

"Yes,  you  did.     I'm  Callie  — ■ — ," 

"What!  You  don't  say  so!  Well,  well!  won- 
ders will  never  cease.  It's  enough  to  make  a  man 
believe  there  is  a  personal  God,  I  declare  it  is !" 

Callie  availed  herself  of  this  opportunity,  and 
when  we  left  there,  the  harness-maker  had  prom- 
ised to  serve  her  wonderful  Savior — land  he  kept 
his  word. 

Next  we  visited  the  rescue  home,  where  we  were 
received  with  open  arms  by  dear  Sister  Kauffman. 
After  having  a  precious  time  with  her  family  and 
partaking  of  her  hospitality,  we  went  down-town 
again.  There  we  spent  a  glorious  evening  at  a 
street-meeting.  Callie  testified.  Afterward  we 
went  to  the  Emmanuel  Gospel  Mission,  where  she 
gave  a  message  from  that  most  precious  parable, 
"The  Prodigal  Son."  When  the  invitation  was 
given,  the  altar  filled  with  seekers,  most  of  whom 
went  from  there  with  victory  in  their  souls. 

We  were  the  guests  of  the  mission  superin- 
tendent  and   family   over   night.      Callie   was   my 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  185 

room-mate.  Then  it  was  that  I  saw  what  the 
hypodermic  needle  had  done  for  her.  There  was 
no  place  (save  down  her  spine)  that  was  not 
marked,  and  no  wonder,  she  had  been  a  morphine 
slave  for  twenty-seven  years — its  abject  slave. 

The  next  morning,  as  soon  as  we  could  politely 
leave  our  kind  host  and  family,  we  returned  to  that 
'dope'  den,  Callie  to  prepare  the  two  young  men, 
I  to  take  charge  of  the  girl,  and  all  of  us  to  re- 
turn on  an  early  train  to  San  Jose.  Alas !  my  girl 
weakened,  and  nothing  would  induce  her  to  part 
with  her  drug;  but  the  men  went  with  Callie  to 
an  adjacent  barber-shop  for  baths,  hair-cutting, 
and  shaving.  During  these  operations  Callie  and 
I  quickly  went  to  the  Salvation  Army's  second- 
hand shop,  where  Callie  procured  the  men  com- 
plete outfits  of  respectable  clothing.  What  a 
transformation  when  we  beheld  them  again !  Then 
we  took  them  to  breakfast;  but  they  ate  spar- 
ingly, and  were  not  satisfied  until  they  had  taken 
some  of  their  favorite'  drug. 

Two  and  a  half  hours  later  Callie  and  I  were 
at  home  once  more,  and  our  young  men  were  in 
the  safe  keeping  of  two  sanctified  brothers.  Al- 
though these  brethren  were  severely  tried  and 
tested  time  and  again,  they  so  held  on  to  God  for 
these  precious  souls  that  they  are  now  saved  and 
sanctified   and  on  their  road  to  heaven. 


186  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

Callie  kept  her  situation  for  some  time  longer 
and  then  went  forth  to  preach  the  glorious  gos- 
pel. The  last  time  I  heard  of  her,  she  was  being 
wonderfully  blest  in  preaching  in  southern  Cali- 
fornia. May  God  forever  guide  this  precious 
woman  and  keep  her  true  until  Jesus  calls,  "Well 
done,  thou  good  and  faithful  servant,  enter  thou 
into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord." 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  187 

CHAPTER   XIX. 

STILL    SOUTHWARD    BOUND — SANTA    CRUZ — 
LUCY    RETURNS    TO    HER    HOME. 

The  occurrences  of  the  previous  chapter  took 
place  several  months  after  the  happenings  now  to 
be  related. 

The  latter  part  of  August  found  Lucy  and  me 
in  Santa  Cruz,  one  of  California's  beautiful  ocean 
resorts,  where  again  we  were  fortunate  in  secur- 
ing lodging  with  a  Christian  landlady,  Mrs.  Hedge- 
peth,  who  took  pleasure  in  furnishing  much  infor- 
mation. She  also  introduced  us  to  several,  who, 
later  on,  became  warmly  interested  in  the  cause 
we  represented. 

In  the  main,  ours  was  now  a  house-to-house 
work.  Lucy  would  take  one  street,  and  I  another, 
seeking  for  means  to  be  applied  to  the  home  fund. 
For  days  we  met  only  at  noon  add  eventide,  weary 
in  body,  often  somewhat  discouraged,  but  always 
with  new  and  varied  experiences.  A  few  of  these 
we  will  relate. 

One  evening  Lucy  said:  "Mother,  I  called  at  a 
lovely  home  today  where  were  a  great  variety  of 
beautiful  birds  and  strange  little  animals  in  big 
cages  in  the  yard.  The  gentleman  who  was  feed- 
ing and  caring  for  them  seemed  pleased  at  my 
interest,  leaned  over  the  fence  and  conversed  with 


188  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

me  about  them,  telling  where  he  had  discovered 
some,  how  costly  were  others,  what  special  care 
and  food  most  of  them  required,  and  much  more; 
but  oh !  Mother  dear,  he  had  no  use,  no  time  for 
Jesus,  or  anything  relating  to  him.  He  turned 
away  and  left  me  when  I  tried  to  tell  him.  Isn't 
he  to  be  pitied?  I  had  better  success  a  few  doors 
higher  up.  The  lady  was  very  kind.  She  put 
her  name  down  for  one  dollar.  I've  collected 
$ — • —  for  the  fund  today,"  and  she  smiled  with 
joy  as  she  handed  me  the  money. 

One  reputed  wealthy  woman,  after  hearing  my 
story,  highly  commended  the  enterprise  and  said, 
"I  would  be  glad  to  help  you,  but  all  I  can  spare 
I  contribute  to  the  Salvation  Army."  I  pleaded 
further,  but  in  vain.  Later,  and  quite  by  acci- 
dent, we  learned  that  her  contribution  consisted  in 
occasionallj'^  purchasing  a  War  Cry.  What  a  sad, 
sad  accounting  will  have  to  be  given  by  many  on 
that  day  when  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth  shall 
sit  upon  his  throne ! 

Several  of  the  local  pastors  manifested  most 
kindly  consideration,  some  gave  lists  of  names  of 
charitably  disposed  people,  and  a  few  invited  me 
to  share  their  pulpits. 

Never  shall  I  forget  the  day  when  Lucy  and 
I  called  at  a  handsome  residence  on  Washington 
Street.     The  door  was  opened  by  one  of  the  most 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  189 

spiritual-countenanced  young  ladies  I  have  ever 
had  the  pleasure  of  meeting,  and  from  that  day 
to   this   she   has   been   one   of   my   warmest,   most 

loyal  friends — -Sister  B G •     More  times 

than  I  can  count  I  have  acted  upon  and  profited 
by  her  wise  and  kindly  advice,  and  never  did  she 
fail  me  with  sympathy  and  help  in  a  trying  hour. 
Her  widowed  mother  was  the  first  large  contribu- 
tor to  the  fund.  Only  God  knows  my  heart's  grati- 
tude the  day  she  handed  me  that  cheque  for  one 
hundred  dollars. 

Through  the  daughter  I  learned  who  had  spir- 
itual charge  of  the  jail  work,  and  soon,  acting  on 
her  suggestions,  made  the  acquaintance  of  Mrs. 
Mason.  She  invited  us  to  attend  the  following 
Sunday  morning  services  at  9:  30  o'clock.  In  con- 
sequence of  my  responding,  the  next  chapter  will 
relate  the  sad  story  which  came  to  me  from  the 
lips  of  a  youth  sentenced  to  Folsom  penitentiary 
for  ninety-nine  years. 

We  soon  located  the  neighborhood  of  the  poor 
wandering  girls,  where  many  gladly  bade  Lucy 
and  me  welcome.  Also,  we  were  informed  that, 
owing  to  circumstances  at  that  time,  the  only  re- 
ligious people  who  would  be  admitted  to  certain 
houses  were  Salvation  Army  lassies.  Learning 
our  errand,  one  of  these  kindly  disposed  women 
of  God  accompanied  us,  we  wearing  bonnets  loaned 


190  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

for  this  occasion.  The  landlady  of  one  of  these 
houses  was  the  one  we  met  on  the  train,  when 
Callie  accompanied  me  to  San  Francisco  on  that 
important  trip. 

At  this  time  a  gospel-tent  was  pitched  in  the 
rear  of  the  court-house  and  city  hall.  Each  night 
there  congregated  large  numbers  of  people,  most 
of  whom  came  from  the  humble  walks  of  life.  In 
that  precious  little  tabernacle  many  souls  sought 
and  found  salvation.  At  this  time  the  services 
were  conducted  by  Brother  Williams  and  his  wife, 
whilst  I  served  as  organist,  and  also,  occasionally, 
as  the  Lord  would  lead,  delivered  His  messages. 

One  night  whilst  a  girl  was  at  the  altar  plead- 
ing for  pardon  and  mercy,  she  was  suddenly  seized 
by  a  dark-haired,  portly  woman,  dragged  off  of 
her  knees,  and  hurried  away.  This  unusual  pro- 
cedure took  us  workers  off  our  guard  and  so 
startled  us  as  temporarily  to  disable  us  from  act- 
ing as  we  otherwise  would  have  acted.  The 
woman  ran  down  the  aisle,  firmly  gripping  the 
speechless,  frightened  girl,  declaring  as  she  did 
so  that  it  was  her  daughter,  that  she  would  see 
to  it  that  this  would  not  happen  again;  then  both 
disappeared  in  the  darkness.  How  subtle,  how 
powerful  is  the  adversary  of  souls!  Later  we 
learned  that  that  poor,  poor  girl  had  just  escaped 
from  this   madam    (the  pretended   mother),   who. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  191 

suspecting  her  victim's  whereabouts,  had  stealthily 
followed.  We  worked  for  her  release,  but  in  vain. 
The  girl  being  of  the  age  of  consent,  the  authori- 
ties could  not  act.  Besides,  she  was  now  once  more 
subservient  to  the  devil's  hypnotic  power  and  in- 
fluence. All  we  could  do  was  to  hope  and  pray 
that  the  tender  Shepherd  would,  in  his  own  wise 
way,  set  her  free  from  her  wretched  life  and  save 
her  from  the  fate  awaiting  her. 

When  it  became  known  that  two  newcomers, 
practical  rescue  workers,  were  in  town,  we  were 
soon  overwhelmed  with  responsibilities  too  many 
to  shoulder.  Moreover,  the  San  Jose  and  San 
Francisco  rescue  homes,  hitherto  but  little  heard 
of  in  Santa  Cruz,  began  filling  to  overflowing  with 
wandering  girls. 

One  day  Lucy  received  a  special  letter,  request- 
ing her  immediate  presence  at  home  on  account 
of  the  sudden  illness  of  her  mother.  We  tem- 
porarily parted,  I  promising  to  join  her  (God 
willing)  in  October,  in  order  to  spend  my  birth- 
day with  her  and  her  dear  ones.  How  much  I 
missed  my  ardent,  loving  companion  I  can  not 
say;  but  as  "the  King's  business  requireth  haste" 
(1  Sam.  21:8),  I  stifled  my  feelings  and  busied 
myself  more,  if  possible,  than  heretofore  in  meet- 
ing representative  people,  calling  on  unfortunates, 
and,  as  often  as  permitted,  visiting  the  prisoners. 


192  FIFTEEN   YEARS 

In  one  of  these  I  became  so  greatly  interested  that 
I  am  sure  you  also  will  as  you  soon  read  his 
story. 

Before  I  left  Santa  Crnz,  the  Lord  had  graciously 
raised  up  many  friends  in  that  place.  Time  and 
again  it  has  been  my  pleasure  to  return  there,  al- 
ways to  be  warmly  welcomed  in  many  homes,  and 
especially  entertained  by  Sisters  Green,  Mary  Per- 
kins, Van  Ness,  and  Brother  Westlake  and  wife. 
The  latter  were  traveling  in  gospel-tent  work  when 
first  I  met  them.  It  was  when  making  my  home  in 
Redding,  where  occurred  the  rescue  of  little  Rosa. 

Whilst  I  recall  these  precious  times,  so  many 
instances  of  special  seasons  of  prayer,  special  an- 
swers, personal  kindnesses,  and  loving  considera- 
tions come  before  my  vision  that  I  more  than  ever 
desire  to  bow  humbly  before  the  wonderful  heav- 
enly Father  in  thanksgiving  and  praise  for  gra- 
ciously permitting  so  many,  many  of  his  loved 
ones  to  cheer,  advise,  and  help  me;  also  for  en- 
abling me  to  look  past  the  sinful  exterior  and  to 
see,  by  faith,  the  priceless  souls  of  humanity, 
souls  that  are  starving  and  perishing  for  lack  of 
proper  nurture. 

And  I  am  still  praying  for  more  strength,  more 
grace,  more  wisdom,  more  love,  to  aid  me  and  his 
other  chosen  missionaries  in  the  winning  of  souls 
and  the  rescuing  of  the  perishing,  for   I  do  not 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  198 

want    to   go    into    his    heavenly    kingdom    empty- 
handed.     Do  you? 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  WITH  THE  OUTCAST.  195 

CHAPTER    XX. 
JOE'S  STORY. 

In  giving  you  Joe's  story,  I  realize  that  I  am 
taking  considerable  liberty,  having  not  asked  his 
permission,  but  I  am  confident  of  his  willingness 
because  of  the  lesson  of  warning  to  other  boys — 
and  they  are  so  many — ^whose  early  lives  corres- 
pond to  his.  I  am  one  of  Joe's  interested  friends. 
I  have  frequently  visited  him  in  the  prison  adja- 
cent to  Folsom,  near  Sacramento,  Cal.,  and  have 
learned  from  Warden  Reilly  that  he  is  a  model 
prisoner.  I  am  hoping,  and  praying  that,  if  it  be 
the  will  of  God,  he  will  soon  be  out  on  parole. 

Whilst  he  was  detained  in  the  Santa  Cruz  jail 
awaiting  a  rehearing  of  his  case,  it  was  frequently 
my  privilege  to  visit  that  place  through  the  week 
and,  with  my  little  autoharp  for  accompaniment,  to 
sing  for  the  prisoners.  One  afternoon,  whilst  I 
was  sitting  by  the  bars  in  front  of  Joe's  cell,  and 
just  following  that  blessed  song,  "Tell  Mother 
I'll  Be  There,"  he  broke  into  agonizing  sobs  and 
tears,  and  for  a  long  while  could  not  control  him- 
self as  he  lay  prostrate  face  downward  on  the 
cold  stone  floor.  I  waited  and  prayed,  my  very 
soul  in  agony  for  his,  as  I  began  to  appreciate  and 
realize  his  awful  situation.  Stretching  forth  my 
hands  through  those  iron  bars,  I  reverently  placed 


196  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

them  on  his  head,  and  with  all  my  heart  implored 
our  Lord  for  comfort,  mercy,  and  pardon  for  the 
soul  of  this  stricken  young  man,  who  that  morning 
had  learned  that  the  sentence  already  pronounced 
at  a  former  trial  had  been  confirmed  and  that  it 
was  immediately  to  go  into  effect.  There  was  no 
escaping  his  fate  now. 

I  was  permitted,  by  the  kind-hearted  sheriff,  to 
spend  hours  with  Joe  on  that  occasion.  When  his 
grief  had  somewhat  spent  itself,  this  is  what  he 
said: 

"O  Mother  Roberts,  Mother  Roberts!  if  I  only 
could  recall  the  past!     If  I  only  could! 

"I  started  in  wrong  from  the  time  I  can  re- 
member. Lots  of  naughty  little  things  I  would  do 
even  when  I  was  quite  a  small  shaver.  Some  things  I 
did  the  folks  would  think  smart  and  cute.  They 
•would  laugh  and  brag  of  me  to  the  neighbors,  right 
in  my  hearing,  too,  and  that's  where  they  made  a 
mistake;  for,  young  as  I  was,  it  only  made  me 
bolder,  also  saucy. 

"Some  of  the  youngsters  in  our  neighborhood 
were  awful.  I  do  believe  they  were  born  bad; 
anyhow,  I  knew  they  swore,  and  so  did  some  of 
their  parents.  They  gave  them  many  a  cuffing, 
but  they  didn't  care,  only  swore  worse  than  ever. 
My  folks  used  to  forbid  me  to  go  near  them,  and 
when  any   of  them  came  into  our  yard,  used  to 


'  NINETY-NINE  YEARS,  MOTHER  ROBERTS !  ' '  POOR  JOE ! 


196 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  197 

say,  'You  go  right  home;  I  don't  want  you  here. 
Joe  can't  play  with  you.'  But  Joe  did,  and  that's 
the  reason  Joe  has  to  suffer  now."  .  ,  . 

"Poor  boy!  don't  tell  it,  if  it  distresses  you  so 
badly,"  I  said;  but  he  continued. 

"The  time  came  when  I  was  old  enough  to  go 
to  school.  These  same  kids  went  to  the  same  one 
I  did,  and  do  you  think  I  could  shake  'em?  No, 
mam;  they  stuck  to  me  like  leeches.  They  were 
now  harder  than  ever  to  get  rid  of.  In  fact,  I 
couldn't,  but  managed  never  to  let  my  folks  see 
me  with  them  if  I  could  help  it,  and  they  knew 
they  dare  not  come  near  our  house.  It  didn't  take 
me  very  long  to  learn  to  swear  like  them,  when  in 
their  company.  I  thought  it  sounded  big  and 
smart,  although  deep  down  in  my  heart  I  knew  it 
was  wrong.  One  day  one  of  them  got  hold  of  a 
deck  of  soiled  playing  cards,  and  the  oldest  kid 
undertook  to  teach  the  rest  of  us  how  to  play 
casino.  It  didn't  take  long  to  learn.  I  used  to 
often  get  home  late  from  school  now,  and  when 
asked  what  kept  me,  always  told  a  lie.  I  hated 
to  do  that  at  first,  but  it  soon  got  to  be  easy.  The 
folks  so  loved  me,  had  such  confidence  in  their 
'smart  little  Joe,'  that  they  never  suspected, 
because  I  learned  my  lessons  quickly;  be- 
sides, always  had  a  pretty  good  report  from 
school. 


198  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

"We  used  to  play  sometimes  in  a  vacant  lot. 
There  was  a  saloon  near  by,  and  sometimes  the 
man  would  treat  to  soda-water,  sometimes  we  paid 
for  it,  and  by  the  time  I  was  thirteen  I  had  learned 
to  love  beer  and  whiskey,  also  to  smoke  cigarettes, 
which  we  would  make  from  the  tobacco  we  kids 
stole  from  our  fathers'  and  other  people's  pockets 
when  their  backs  were  turned,  though  sometimes 
we'd  buy  it. 

"It  began  to  be  hard  work  to  get  up  in  time  for 
breakfast  and  school  of  a  morning,  and  I'll  tell 
you  why.  When  the  folks  thought,  after  I'd  said 
'Good  night'  that  I'd  gone  to  bed,  I'd  lock  my  door, 
then  pretty  soon,  in  my  stocking  feet,  holding  my 
shoes  in  my  hand,  I  would  drop  quietly  out  of  my 
window  into  the  garden,  and  as  quick  as  I  could, 
by  previous  arrangement,  would  join  the  others  in 
a  game  of  cards  for  the  smokes  or  the  drinks. 
Father  more  than  once  said,  'Joe,  I've  heard  you're 
keeping  bad  boys'  company.  I  hope  it  isn't  true. 
If  I  have  your  word  for  it  that  it  isn't,  I'll  believe 
you,  because  I've  never  yet  caught  you  in  a  lie.' 
I  confess  I  used  to  feel  awfully  ashamed  and 
guilty  as  I'd  say,  'Whoever  told  you  that  told  you 
a  lie.  You  know  where  I  am  at  nine  o'clock,  sir.' 
And  he'd  say,  'That's  so,  my  boy.  They  must  have 
mistaken  somebody  else  for  you.'  But  I  knew 
better. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  199 

"When  I  was  about  sixteen,  I  went  to  work  driv- 
ing a  bakery  wagon,  so  that  I  didn't  see  quite  so 
much  of  my  former  pals,  but  delivering  bread  took 
me  into  places  where  no  honest  or  moral  man  or 
boy  ought  to  even  dare  to  set  his  foot,  let  alone 
one  like  me;  so  I  fell  still  further. 

"For  all  that,  a  pure,  good  girl  fell  in  love  with 
me,  and  I  with  her.  I  hated  to  deceive  her,  but 
made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  cut  it  all  out  when 
we  were  married,  if  she'd  promise  to  be  my  wife; 
and  so  we  became  engaged.  But — ■!  didn't  cut  it 
out.  More  than  once  she  said,  'O  Joe,  you've  been 
drinking!  I  smell  it.'  I'd  laugh,  and  make  some 
kind  of  an  excuse,  and  she'd  forgive  me  every  time. 
Say,  Mother  Roberts,  I  hated  myself  from  head 
to  foot  for  lying  as  I  did  to  that  pure,  sweet 
girl."  .  .  . 

"Go  on,  Joe,  I'm  listening." 

"One  night  I  joined  the  boys  in  a  game  of  cards 
in  a  saloon  on   Soquel  Avenue.      It  appears  that 

Mr.  L ■,  the  proprietor,  who,  by  the  way,  was 

a  veteran  G.  A.  R.  man,  had  received  quite  a  sum 
of  money  that  day — ^is  back  pension.  As  God  is 
my  judge,  I  did  not  know  this  when  I  went  in  there 
that  evening.  We  had  a  round  of  drinks  after 
the  first  game,  and  after  the  second,  another  round ; 
then  I  said  'Good  night'  and  went  home. 

"Father  and   I  slept  in  the  same  room,  and   I 


200  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

hadn't  been  in  bed  very  long  when  a  knock  came 
on  our  door. 

"  'Who's  there  ?'  asked  father. 

"  'Mie,  Constable  — < — ,  where's  Joe  ?  I  want 
him.' 

"  'Joe's  out,  Constable.  What  do  you  want  him 
for-f"'  asked  father. 

"  'No,  I'm  not  out.  Father.  Here  I  am,'  I  said,  at 
the  same  time  jumping  out  of  bed.     'What's  up?' 

"  'Joe,  my  boy,  I'm  sorry  for  you,  but  you're  my 
prisoner.  Dress  as  quick  as  you  can  and  come  with 
me.  Mr.  L — • —  was  murdered  tonight.  He  isn't 
dead  yet,  but  he's  dying.  You  were  in  his  saloon 
a  while  ago,  drinking  and  playing  cards,  and  you 
are  one  of  the  three  accused  of  the  crime  of  murder- 
ing him  for  the  sake  of  robbing  him.' 

"The  shock  was  so  awful  that  I  couldn't  speak, 
and  oh!  poor  old  father!  He  shook  me,  saying, 
'Speak,  Joe.     Tell  the  constable  it's  not  so.' 

"Constable,  my  boy  doesn't  drink  anything  to 
speak  of,  and  I  don't  suppose  he  knows  one  card 
from  another;  do  you,  Joe?' 

"Nobody  answered  this,  and  pretty  soon  we  were 
in  the  presence  of  the  dying  man.  Oh!  Mother 
Roberts,  it  was  like  a  horrible  nightmare.  I  was 
dazed  with  the  shock  and  the  fright  of  it  all.  I 
could  hardly  get  my  voice  when  some  one  asked 
me  where  I  had  spent  the  evening,  and  at  what 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  201 

time  I  had  left  that  saloon.  He  must  have  been 
murdered  right  after  I  left.  They  tried  to  rouse 
him  to  see  if  he'd  recognize  me.  He  claimed  to, 
but  I'm  sure  he  didn't;  for  he  couldn't  see  and 
didn't  know  what  he  was  talking  about." 

"What  of  your  two  companions,  Joe?"  I  asked. 

"One  of  them  was  there,  in  charge  of  the  sheriflF; 
I  don't  know  where  the  other  one  was.  From  that 
night  up  to  this  we  have  been  here  in  prison,  though 
we  haven't  met.  He's  in  a  cell  on  another  floor.  He's 
sentenced  to  San  Quentin  for  life. 

"Father  mortgaged  our  pretty  home  [he  after- 
wards lost  it,  the  mortgage  being  foreclosed]  and 
has  done  everything  under  the  sun  he  knows  of 
to  clear  me,  so  have  my  lawyers ;  but  they've  failed ! 
Mother  Roberts,  they've  failed!  and  I'm  to  be  sent 
to  the  penitentiary  for  ninety-nine  years.  Think 
of  it,  ninety-nine  years!  That  means  that  unless 
the  real  murderer  turns  up,  some  day  I'll  die  and 
be  buried  in  a  dishonored  grave — and  all  through 
starting  out  wrong  to  begin  with,  then  keeping  it 
up. 

My  heart  felt  torn  all  to  pieces  for  this  poor 
unfortunate  lad.  How  I  should  have  liked  to  sit 
beside  those  bars  all  night  in  order  to  comfort 
him!  but  as  that  could  not  be,  I  presently,  after 
commending  him  to  an  ever-merciful  God  and  Sav- 
ior, whom  he  could  not,  as  yet,  accept  or  under- 


202  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

stand,  took  my  departure,  as  sad  and  burdened  a 
soul  as  ever  walked  the  earth.  As  the  tears  coursed 
down  my  cheeks,  I  resolved  to  try  to  help  him, 
and,  moreover,  by  repeating  his  story,  to  warn 
mothers  and  fathers  to  guard  their  little  ones 
closely  every  hour  of  their  young  lives.  Also,  I 
purposed  not  to  spare  myself  in  addressing  them, 
whether  individually  or  en  masse,  but  to  confess 
my  own  carelessness  and  shortsightedness,  when, 
as  a  young  mother,  I  was  much  of  the  time  heed- 
less with  regard  to  my  little  spoilt  son,  for  whose 
soul  and  body  God  was  some  day  going  to  hold  me 
responsible.  Had  it  not  been  for  God's  tender 
mercy  and  love  in  pardoning  and  directing  my  fu- 
ture life,  in  answering  my  earnest  prayers  for  his 
tender  watch-care  over  me  and  mine,  who  knows 
but  that  my  only  and  well-beloved  son  might  have 
shared  a  similar  fate.-*  If  he  had,  I  alone  would 
have  been  to  blame. 

Many  and  many  a  time  I  have  been  used  of  God 
in  trying  to  comfort  stricken  mothers  who  were 
visiting  their  children  now  behind  bars.  "O  God !" 
they  have  cried,  "what  did  I  ever  do  that  my  child 
should  get  into  such  trouble  as  this?"  Poor  moth- 
ers! You  were  guilty  as  was  I,  but  you  haven't 
recognized  that  fact.  Yes,  you  were;  and  now 
you  begin  to  realize  it  when  well-nigh  too  late.  But 
it  isn't  yet.     Just  kneel  down  and  throw  yourself 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  208 

on  the  mercies  of  a  merciful,  loving  God.  Confess 
to  him.  Plead  with  him  to  forgive  you.  Ask  him 
to  direct  every  hour,  every  moment,  of  your  future. 
Surrender  your  children  to  him;  tell  him  you've 
made  a  blunder  of  their  lives  as  well  as  of  your 
own;  then  wait  on  him.  Listen  to  what  he  says: 
"Come  now,  and  let  us  reason  together,  .  .  .  Though 
your  sins  be  as  scarlet,  they  shall  be  as  white  as 
snow,  though  they  be  red  like  crimson,  they 
shall  be  as  wool.  If  ye  be  willing  and  obe- 
dient, ye  shall  eat  the  good  of  the  land;  but  if 
ye  refuse  and  rebel,  ye  shall  be  devoured  with  the 
sword :  for  the  mouth  of  the  Lord  hath  spoken  it." 
Isa.  1 :  1 8-20.  "They  that  wait  upon  the  Lord, 
shall  renew  their  strength;  they  shall  mount  up 
with  wings  as  eagles;  they  shall  run  and  not  be 
weary;  they  shall  walk,  and  not  faint."  Isa.  40:  31. 
I  have  proved,  daily  am  proving,  all  this,  to  my 
constant  peace  and  satisfaction.  So  may  you,  dear 
reader,  if  you  will.     God  bless  you  and  yours. 

Not  long  ago  I  visited  Warden  and  Mrs.  Reilly 
at  Folsom  and  had  a  long  interview  with  Joe.  He 
told  me  that  his  poor  old  father  was  dead  and  that 
he  was  now  alone  in  the  world.  I  asked  him  if  he 
wanted  to  apply  for  parole.  "No,  Mother  Rob- 
erts," he  answered;  "parole  is  for  guilty  pris- 
oners. I  want  a  pardon."  "But,  Joe,"  I  replied, 
"if  you  are  paroled,  in  two  years  afterward  you 


204  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

can  apply  for  and  receive  your  pardon."  ...  I  did 
not  prevail,  but  I  am  hoping  that  before  finishing 
this  book  I  shall  receive  good  news  concerning  "Joe. 
If  so,  I  will  surely  tell  you. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  205 

CHAPTER    XXI. 

I    DEPART    FOR    PACIFIC  GROVE — MEET   LUCY 
AGAIN — HER    BAPTISM. 

Not  very  long  after  poor  Joe  was  removed  to 
Folsom^  the  call  of  God  took  me  to  another  beau- 
tiful ocean-resort — -Pacific  Grove.  It  was  only  a 
short  journey.  There  was  no  one  to  welcome  me, 
for  I  was  a  stranger,  but  in  less  than  twenty-four 
hours  one  of  the  Lord's  loved  ones,  a  widowed  sis- 
ter, Mirs.  Hill,  now  departed  to  her  eternal  home, 
welcomed  me  under  her  roof.  On  the  following 
evening  I  was  introduced  to  Miss  Fannie  Rowe 
and  her  mother.  The  former  lady,  in  gratitude  to 
God  for  wonderfully  raising  her  up  instantly  from 
a  state  of  helplessness  and  affliction  of  many  years' 
duration,  had  consecrated  her  all  to  him,  and,  in 
addition  to  innumerable  responses  to  calls  for 
prayers  and  financial  aid,  had  opened  and  was 
supporting  a  mission  in  the  Grove,  another  in  the 
adjacent  town  of  Monterey,  and  one  for  the  In- 
dians, situated  at  The  Needles,  Ariz,  I  gladly 
responded  to  her  kind  invitation  to  address  the 
patrons  of  Bethel  mission  one  evening.  She  gave 
liberally  toward  helping  to  procure  the  home  for 
the  wandering  girls. 

Many  were  the  private  requests  for  personal 
work  with  those  who  were  too  young  and  inex- 


206  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

perienced  to  realize  that  their  attitude  and  heed- 
less words  and  deeds  were  having  a  demoralizing 
tendency  upon  themselves,  their  schoolmates,  and 
others.  This  work,  let  me  assure  you,  dear  reader, 
calls  for  special  prayer  for  wisdom,  diplomacy,  and 
deep  love.  Young  people,  especially  girls  at  the 
difficult  age  (between  thirteen  and  eighteen),  are 
very  hard  to  persuade,  if  their  earlier  training 
has  not  been  as  wise  as  it  should  have  been.  There- 
fore permit  me  to  advise  much  and  earnest  fellow- 
ship and  prayer  with  the  Father  before  making 
any  efforts  of  this  nature  with  them.  A  false 
move  too  often  creates  rebellion,  frequently  fol- 
lowed by  disastrous  results. 

But  to  proceed.  An  invitation  came  from  the 
chaplain  of  the  Presidio  of  Monterey  to  visit 
army  quarters,  situated  between  the  two  towns. 
There  I  was  taken  through  every  department  and 
afterwards  invited  to  address  a  large  body  of  stal- 
wart young  soldiers.  You  may  be  sure  that,  as 
I  did  so,  my  mother  heart  tenderly  went  forth  to 
them,  as  I  thought  of  my  own  precious  son,  who 
was  now  on  the  high  seas  and  whom  I  had  the 
privilege  of  seeing  so  seldom,  and  then  only  for 
short  visits. 

After  luncheon  with  the  chaplain  and  his  wife 
we  visited  the  hospital.  I  was,  as  usual,  accom- 
panied by  my  autoharp,  and  so  was  able  to  give  a 


^<->' '^-OUTCAST.  ^"^ 

.  cheer  to  the  many  lonely,  suffering  ones  as 
%vell  as  to  speak  briefly  about  the  Great  Physi- 
cian and  also  pray  for  them.  It  was  all  very 
sad,  yet  so  precious.  I  would  that  I  could,  in  the 
name  of  Jesus,  have  temporarily  mothered  one  and 
all  of  them.  They  appeared  to  be  so  appreciative, 
and  to  be  suffering  as  much  from  homesickness  as 
from  the  many  other  ailments. 

Every  church  threw  its  doors  open  to  me,  the 
interest  grew,  God  blest  my  every  step,  and  I  (by 
faith)  saw  our  hopes  soon  realized.  About  this 
time  a  letter  forwarded  from  Santa  Cruz,  post- 
marked San  Jose,  reached  me,  telling  of  the  return 
of  the  president  and  also  the  vice-president  of  the 
board  of  rescue  home  managers,  and  urging  my 
return  for  a  conference  with  them  in  regard  to 
much  renovation  and  also  enlargement  of  their 
borders,  for  the  present  home  was  now  altogether 
inadequate  to  its   necessities. 

Earnest  prayer  failed  to  bring  me  light  on  this 
matter.  I  could  only  await  God's  time.  Then  came 
a  loving  letter  from  my  dear  Lucy,  stating  that  her 
mother  had  fully  recovered  and  reminding  me  of 
my  promise  to  spend  my  birthday  with  her  and  her 
dear  ones.  There  being  no  reason  why  I  should 
not  accept,  I  bade  farewell  to  many  newly- found 
friends,  and  in  a  few  hours  I  was  being  warmly 
embraced,    also    overwhelmed    with    kindness    and 


208  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

gratitude,  by  my  spiritual  daughter  and  her  re- 
fined, delicate-looking  mother. 

Imagine,  if  you  can,  how  I,  for  several  days, 
fared.  It  was  most  embarrassing,  but  very,  very 
precious  to  my  soul,  especially  so  when  one  day 
Lucy  followed  her  Savior's  example  in  baptism  in 
the  presence  of  her  family,  her  mother,  and  me. 
Placing  her  wet  arms  about  my  neck,  she  rejoiced 
my  heart  by  saying,  "O  Mother  Roberts,  I've  just 
had  a  wonderful  vision  of  Jesus,  and  I  want  to 
say  this  to  you:  Much  as  I  love  my  mother  and 
dear  ones,  I  would  rather  continue  with  you  in  the 
work  if  you'll  take  me;  will  you,  dear?"  "Will 
I?  I  should  say  I  will,"  I  answered,  and  gladly, 
humbly,  thanked  and  praised  God  for  the  blessed 
privilege.  So  not  long  afterwards  we  took  our 
departure  for  Los  Angeles,  our  next  field  of  labor, 
and,  permit  me  to  add,  at  this  time  a  difficult  one. 
There  was  an  agitation  on  foot  for  the  closing 
of  all  the  questionable  resorts,  and  this  meant  much 
strenuous,  problematical  work  on  the  part  of  the 
agitators.  Amongst  these  I  make  mention  of  the 
late  Rev.  Sidney  Kendall,  a  noted  writer  and  res- 
cue worker,  a  person  who  proved  to  be  one  of  our 
very  valuable  friends  and  advisers  during  our  so- 
journ in  that  great  and  beautiful  city  (  Author  of 
the  "Soundings  of  Hell,"  etc.) 

Matters,  through  correspondence  with  the  San 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  £09 

Jose  board,  were  now  assuming  such  shape  that  in- 
dications were  that  we  should  soon  return  to  that 
place.  In  the  meanwhile  we  were  much  occupied, 
through  the  daytime  largely,  in  making  personal 
visits  to  the  poor  outcasts,  who  were  in  great  stress 
of  mind  at  this  time.  Consequently,  many  returned 
to  their  parental  homes,  others  were  taken  care  of 
or  furnished  with  situations,  but  not  nearly  so 
many  as  we  could  have  wished,  and  all  for  lack  of 
finances.  Oh,  how  I  have  wished  that  those  who 
pray  God's  will  to  be  done  in  their  lives  would 
only  mean  it  and  live  up  to  their  prayers,  profes- 
sions, and  privileges.  What  a  rich  harvest  the 
Master,  at  the  final  summing  up,  could  then  reap! 
but  alas!  not  many  live  the  prayer. 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  WITH  THE  OUTCAST.  211 

CHAPTER    XXII. 
ANNA — WE     LEAVE     FOR    SAN     JOSE. 

One  evening,  during  the  temporary  absence  of 
Lucy  (on  a  few  days'  visit  with  friends).  Sister 
Taylor,  matron  of  the  Door  of  Hope,  home  for 
girls,  and  I  were  invited  by  Brother  Trotter  of  the 
Rescue  Mission,  then  situated  on  Main  Street  near 
St.  Elmo  Hotel,  to  take  charge  of  the  meeting. 
When  the  invitation  to  seek  the  Savior  was  given, 
the  altar  filled  with  many  mothers'  boys,  both 
young  and  old,  and  in  all  sorts  of  condition — semi- 
intoxicated,  ragged,  dirty,  etc.  (Reader,  I  have 
seen  this  sight  scores  of  times  in  similar  places.) 

Several  workers  joined  us  on  the  platform  in 
aiding  the  seekers.  As  I  was  kneeling  with  my 
autoharp  lying  across  my  lap  and  my  eyes  closed, 
I  inadvertently  opened  them.  Out  at  the  open 
door,  about  forty  feet  away,  stood  a  throng  of  ob- 
servers, amongst  them  a  girl.  Never  did  I  so  long 
to  leave  the  platform,  but  I  feared  that  an  inter- 
ruption might  mean  disastrous  results  to  both  work- 
ers and  seekers.  Soon  the  meeting  gloriously 
closed,  the  doors  were  shut,  and  we  were  hurrying 
home.  As  I  walked  up  the  street  with  Sister  Tay- 
lor and  presently  stood  waiting  with  her  for  her 
approaching  car,  my  lodging  being  in  close  prox- 
imity,  I   told  her  of.  my  seeing  that  girl  by  the 


212  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

door  and  of  my  longing  to  have  obeyed  the  im- 
pulse to  go  and  speak  to  the  stranger.  Sister 
Taylor  comforted  me  with  the  assurance  of  God's 
never-failing  response  to  the  prayer  of  faith  for 
even  the  unknown,  and  urged  me  to  pray  for  the 
girl.  I  replied  that  it  would  have  been  infinitely 
more  satisfactory  to  have  dealt  with  her  face  to 
face. 

Suddenly  some  one  gently  touched  me  on  the 
shoulder.  Turning  about,  I  beheld  a  tall,  pretty, 
but  weary-looking  young  woman.  It  was  the  girl 
whom  I  had  noticed  in  that  open  doorway. 

"May  I  speak  to  you  a  moment?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,  dear,  gladly !  I  was  wishing  I  might  only 
meet  you,  for  I  saw  you  looking  into  the  mission 
just  now.  Come  with  me  to  my  room,"  and  I 
placed  my  arm  through  hers. 

"No,  no!"  she  replied,  "you  wouldn't  want  my 
kind  to  visit  you  there." 

"Indeed,  I  would,  and  do,  dear  child,  so  come 
along.  Good  night.  Sister  Taylor.  Remember  us 
in  your  prayers."  .  .  . 

It  was  nearly  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and 
Anna  had  told  me  her  story — 'her  sad,  sad  story. 
Girls,  you  ought  to  hear  it;  so  presently  I'm  going 
to  relate  it  for  your  benefit,  but  first  I  want  you 
to  know  that  before  we  left  my  room,  she  had  sur- 
rendered her  future  to  her  loving  Savior.     Before 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  218 

we  were  off  of  our  knees,  she,  with  the  tears  in 

her  eyes,  suddenly  exclaimed: 

"Oh!   I  quite  forgot,   I  quite  forgot.     Let's  go 

quickly.     Poor  Flora,  my  chum,  is  awful  sick,  and 

I  came  out  to  hunt  her  friend  and  take  her  some 

medicine."     We  hurried  away. 

*********** 

There  lay  a  dark-haired  girl  moaning  and  gasp- 
ing for  breath.     She  managed  to  inquire: 

"Who's  this,  Anna?  Who've  you  brought  with 
you?" 

Soon  I  was  reassuring  the  poor  sufferer,  whilst 
endeavoring  to  make  her  more   comfortable. 

"Dear,  have  you  a  mother?"  I  inquired. 

"Yes,  only  two  blocks  from  here ;  but  she  doesn't 
know  I'm  anywhere  near  her.  She  never  comes 
near  such  a  neighborhood  as  this.  Don't  tell  her, 
please  don't.     It  would  break  her  heart." 

"Very  well,  my  child;  I  won't." 

But  she  hadn't  told  Anna  not  to  tell;  so  I  ex- 
cused myself,  called  Anna  out  of  the  room,  and 
whispered : 

"Get  me  a  certain  medicine;  and  if  you  know 
where  her  mother  lives,  go  there,  gently  break  this 
news,  and  tell  her  that  if  she  still  loves  her  child 
to  come  immediately  with  blankets,  pillows,  and  a 
hack;  to  be  very,  very  gentle  and  quiet  with  her; 
to  talk  as  little  as  possible.     And  we  will  help  to 


214  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

take  her  home;  then  she  must  send  quickly  for 
a  doctor." 

Before  five  o'clock  poor,  forgiven,  suffering 
Flora  was  in  bed  in  her  mother's  home,  where  we 
shall  leave  her  for  the  present,  in  order  that  we 
may  hear  Anna's  story. 

She  said:  "I'm  not  seventeen  years  old  till  next 
month,  and  I'm  the  oldest  of  five  children — three 
girls  and  two  boys.  My  father  is  a  mechanic,  but 
sometimes  he's  out  of  work,  and  then  didn't  he 
used  to  scold !  Just  as  though  we  were  to  blame ! 
Poor  Mother!  I've  often  pitied  her  for  marry- 
ing my  father,  who  was  naturally  cross  and  ill- 
tempered  even  when  things  didn't  go  wrong.  Half 
the  time  mother  daren't  say  her  soul  was  her  own, 
and,  besides,  she  was  naturally  one  of  those  meek, 
timid  kind  that  would  put  up  with  anything  for 
the  sake  of  peace. 

"Winter  before  last  when  he  was  out  of  a  job 
for  quite  a  while  and  mother  was  having  a  hard 
time  of  it  trying  to  keep  us  warm  and  fed,  I  heard 
of  a  place  in  the  next  town,  just  a  car-ride  away, 
where  I  could  work  for  my  board  and  get  my  fifty 
cents  a  day  and  car-fare  if  I  wanted  to  go  home 
at  night.  It  was  to  work  in  a  nice,  genteel 
restaurant;  so  I  coaxed  mother  to  let  me  take  it, 
which  she  did.     I  didn't  ask  father. 

"No,    he    wasn't    what    you'd    call    a    drinking 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  Slff 

man^  though  he  liked  a  glass  of  beer  once  in  a 
while. 

"I  soon  caught  on  how  to  do  my  work  well; 
sometimes  used  to  get  tips,  but  not  often,  'cause 
I  had  the  family  and  ladies'  department  to  wait 
on.  There  was  one  swell-looking  lady  used  to  eat 
there,  and  used  to  come  to  my  table  whenever  she 
could.  We  weren't  allowed  to  chat  with  the  cus- 
tomers, though  sometimes  we  did,  if  the  boss  wasn't 
looking.  One  day  she  told  me  she  was  very  much 
taken  with  me,  asked  if  I  had  a  mother  and  fa- 
ther, and  several  other  questions.  So  I  told  her 
just  how  it  was  with  us  and  how  I  happened  to 
take  a  situation  until  father  got  back  to  work. 
Then  she  asked  where  I  lived.  I  told  her,  but  that 
now  I  was  only  going  home  once  a  week  in  the 
afternoon  for  a  little  while,  it  being  too  dark  and 
cold  to  get  up  so  early  to  take  my  car,  and  that, 
besides,  I  had  to  work  late  sometimes,  so  the  boss 
gave  me  one  dollar  and  fifty  cents  extra  a  week 
to  pay  my  room  rent.  She  asked  if  I  liked  my 
room. 

"  'Well,  nothing  extra.  One  can't  expect  much 
of  a  place  for  one  dollar  and  fifty  cents  a  week, 
can  they?' 

"She  said  no,  certainly  not;  but  as  she  had  taken 
a  fancy  to  me,  and  had  a  nice  house  with  a  nice 
little  spare  room  in  it,  if  I  liked  it  better  than 


318  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

where  I  was  stopping,  she  would  rent  it  to  me, 
and  for  me  to  come  and  see  it  that  afternoon; 
which  I  did.  Of  course  I  took  it.  It  was  fine! 
Worth  double.  She  said  she  did  it  to  encourage 
me,  and  for  me  not  to  say  a  word  to  any  one 
about  it,  as  it  might  make  the  other  girls  jealous; 
besides,  she  didn't  keep  lady  roomers.  So  I  prom- 
ised, and  I  kept  my  word. 

"Some  way,  I  can't  just  tell  how,  I  got  ac- 
quainted with  one  of  her  roomers.  He  soon  be- 
gan to  say  nice  things  and  make  love  to  me,  and 
we  got  so  well  acquainted  that  he'd  leave  his  door 
open  when  I  was  off  duty  of  an  afternoon  and 
would  call  me  in  for  a  chat.  But  one  day — oh!  I 
hate  to  tell  it — lie  closed  the  door,  and  by  and  by 
who  should  walk  in  on  us  but  Madam  herself.  I 
was  scared  half  to  death,  she  raged  so,  said  I'd 
lose  my  job,  threatened  to  tell  my  father,  and  or- 
dered me  to  leave  her  house.  By  and  by  she  cooled 
down,  and  as  I'd  been  crying  till  I  was  a  sight, 
said  I  needn't  go  back  to  the  restaurant,  she'd 
take  care  of  me,  because,  after  all,  she  was  sorry 
for  me,  and  as  things  were  so  bad  for  me  at  home, 
she'd  see  what  she  could  do  for  another  situation 
for  me,  so  for  me  to  stay  in  and  keep  quiet. 

"The  next  day  she  said  she'd  just  fortunately 
received  a  letter  from  a  friend  of  hers  in  Council 
Bluffs,    Iowa,   who   wanted   a   girl  like  me   right 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  217 

away.  I  wanted  awful  bad  to  go  and  say  good-by 
to  Mother  and  the  children,  but  I  was  too 
ashamed,  so  I  did  as  she  advised.  I  just  wrote 
a  little  note  to  tell  them  I  had  got  a  fine  situation 
out  of  town,  and  would  soon  send  full  particulars 
and  my  address;  but  I  never  did,  no  not  from  that 
day  to  this.  I  couldn't.  You  know  I  couldn't,  and 
you  know  why." 

"Yes,  dear  child,  I  know.  You  fell  into  the 
awful  clutches  of  that  procuress  and  her  accom- 
plices. Poor,  poor  Anna !  There  are  thousands  of 
cases  similar  to  yours,  my  poor  child.  Of  course 
you  did  not  know.  They  all  say  that.  But  go  on 
with  your  story,  Anna." 

"I  was  awful  homesick.  Mother  Roberts,  and 
my  conscience  was  hurting  me;  my,  how  it  was 
hurting!  There  was  I  decked  out  in  gay  cheap 
silks  and  laces,  drinking,  and  smoking  cigarettes, 
and  carrying  on  and  doing  things  to  please  people 
that  I  just  hated;  but  I  had  to;  there  was  no  get- 
ting out  of  it.  All  the  time  I  was  longing  to  go 
home  or  to  send  money  to  my  mother,  though  I 
didn't  want  to  send  any  that  came  out  of  that 
house.  No,  indeed.  Besides,  I  had  to  give  it 
nearly  all  to  Madam.  One  day  I  told  her  I  was 
going  back  home  and  for  her  to  give  me  my  money. 
She  told  me  she  didn't  owe  me  any,  that  I  owed 
her. 


218  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

'"What  for?'  I  asked. 

"  'For  your  clothes,  jewelry,  board,  lodging,  and 
the  good  will  of  my  house,'  she  said. 

"  'I  thought  you  gave  all  -that  to  me,'  I  said. 

"Mother  Roberts,  you  ought  to  have  heard  her 
laugh.  It  makes  me  shudder  when  I  think  of  it, 
it  was  so  cruel  and  fiendish !     Presently  she  added : 

"  'You  can't  leave  till  you've  paid  your  debts. 
I'll  have  you  arrested  if  you  do.' 

"  'How  much  do  I  owe  you  ?'  I  asked. 

"  'Pretty  near  six  hundred  dollars,'  she  said. 

"I  nearly  fainted  with  fright,  but  what  was  I 
to  do.''  /  was  afraid  to  die,  or  else  I'd  have  ended 
it  then  and  there.  .  .  . 

"That  night  I  told  a  friend  of  mine,  a  rail- 
road employee,  and  he  said  for  me  to  keep  a  'stiff 
upper  lip,'  and  he'd  get  me  out  of  there  next  trip; 
so  I  kept  my  own  counsel,  and  Madam  concluded 
I'd  decided  to  stay  where  I  was  and  make  the  best 
of  it.  She  didn't  know  I  was  counting  the  hours 
for  three  days,  until  my  friend  got  back. 

"When  he  came,  he  advised  me  to  play  drunk, 
and  to  go  out  with  him  to  dinner.  He  said  I  need 
never  go  back;  he'd  take  me  with  him  on  his  train 
when  it  went  out  that  night. 

"'What  about  my  debt.'''  I  asked  him. 

"'Debt  nothing!'  he  said.  'She  can't  have  you 
arrested.     She  can't  collect  one  cent  of  a  debt  like 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  210 

that.  Don't  take  any  clothes,  for  fear  she'll  sus- 
pect.* 

"Pretty  soon  I  staggered  down  the  stairs,  but  I 
wasn't  drunk;  no,  indeed. 

"  'Where  are  you  going,  Anna.'''  she  inquired. 

"  'Out  to  dinner  with  — — .  Any  objection?'  I 
asked. 

"  'No,  only  be  in  in  time  for  business.' 

"Oh,  thank  God !  I  never  laid  my  eyes  on  her 
again,  nor  she  on  me  from  that  day  to  this.  But 
I  don't  want  you  to  get  the  idea  that  that  escape 
from  her  ended  my  troubles.  By  no  manner  of 
means.  Listen!"  And  then  she  told  me  of  ex- 
periences too  dreadful  for  publication — experiences 
in  Ogden  and  Salt  Lake,  Utah;  Reno,  Nevada. 
Now  she  was  in  Los  Angeles — 'farther  away  from 
mother  and  home  than  ever;  as  unhappy,  as  home- 
sick, as  miserable  a  girl  as  ever  trod  the  earth. 
When  she  happened  to  be  passing  the  mission  door, 
some  one  was  singing,  "Just  as  I  am  Avithout  one 
plea."  After  that  door  had  closed  for  the  night, 
she  followed  Sister  Taylor  and  me,  trying  to  sum- 
mon up  courage  enough  to  approach  me,  fearing 
that  if  she  did  not  I  should  soon  get  on  a  car  and 
her  opportunity  of  ever  meeting  me  would  be  lost. 

At  the  time  of  our  meeting,  Anna  was  well-nigh 
homeless,  friendless,  penniless,  and,  worst  of  all, 
Christless.     In  less  than  four  hours,  praise  God! 


220  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

she  had  her  greatest  needs  supplied,  and,  best  of 
all,  she  had  found  her  Savior, 

In  memory  of  this,  one  of  the  songs  appearing 
in  this  book  was  written — "The  Value  of  a  Song." 
It  was  a  particular  favorite  with  our  family  in  the 
rescue  home,  some  girl  often  remarking,  "Doesn't 
it  just  seem  to  fit  my  case,  Mother  Roberts?"  Then 
she  would  get  me  to  relate  the  story  of  Anna  or 
of  some  other  poor  unfortunate.  Alas !  their  name 
is  "Legion." 


THE  VALUE  OF  A  SONG. 

Words  and  Music  by  Mrs.  Florkncb  Roberts. 


fe^fr^ 


S 


^^ 


l^^i 


^ 


1.  A         poor   girl   was  wan-d'nng   a  -  lone   on   the  street 

2.  As  she  not  -  ed    the  words   of    this  beau  -  ti  -  ful    song, 

3.  "0       God,      I    have  sinned,  I     will    do      so    no    more, 

4.  "Thou  know-est    my   weak-ness,  my    sor-row.  my     sin. 


^l^tor?^^^^ 


r^ 


Of     a  great  bus  -  y      cit  -  y,    thro'  dust  and  thro'  heat. 

Her  thoughts  wandered  back   to    the  days  that  were  gone; 

If        thou    wilt   for  -  give  and    a  sin  -  ner     re  -  store; 

Now   grant   me,  dear  Lord,    a    new  life      to     be  -  gin." 


M 


t^ 


|>      SI     VlZf^       p  -1 


ynji/ii 


M 


Withde-spair  in  her  heart  as  she  walked  to  and  fro. 
And  in  fan  -  cy  she  hears  her  dear  moth  -  er  once  more 
For  the  sake  of  my  Sav  -  ior,  for  mer  -  cy  I  pray: 
And       soon  came  the    an  -  swer  to     this  ear- nest  prayer. 


S??^ 


i 


12* 


^ 


■-r 


When  she  heard  a  sweet  voice  sing  -  ing     soft  -  ly     and   low: 
Sweet-ly  sing  -  ing   the    song  she  now  hears  thro'  that  door. 


Lord, 

give   me 

a 

home  with  some  Chris-  tian 

to 

stay 

A 

par  -  don, 

a 

home,      and    moth  -  er  - 

ly 

care 

Chorus,  pp 


5p^  nu  Ji^.-/J 


Just   as       I     am,    with  -  out      one  plea.  But  that     thy 


P 


m 


i 


s 


^ 


:fzMz 


— 9^ 

blood  was  shed  for  me.     And  that  thou  bidd'st  me  come   to 


I 


~B-0- 


■sf- 


ir^-r 


•3?- 


:25^ 


s^-^ 


thee,     0   Lamb    of     Ood,       I    come,     I 


come! 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  WITH  THE  OUTCAST.  223 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
NORTHWARD     BOUND — THE   OUTCOME. 

More  correspondence,  also  the  return  of  Lucy, 
decided  our  length  of  sojourn  at  Los  Angeles.  Af- 
ter prayerful  consideration,  we,  with  Anna,  soon 
took  our  departure  for  San  Jose,  where  we  were 
warmly  welcomed  by  a  now  former  matron  (Cal- 
lie's  dear  Sister  Griffith).  At  this  time  the  family 
consisted  of  fifteen  girls  and  two  workers.  Im- 
agine our  crowded  condition ! 

The  following  day  the  entire  board  of  managers 
convened,  specially  to  meet  me.  After  prayer  and 
the  reading  of  Scripture,  there  was  an  earnest  dis- 
cussion regarding  the  need  of  an  evangelistic  and 
field  worker.  Because  of  my  being  constantly  re- 
ferred to  as  the  person  for  such  office,  I  requested 
permission  to  retire  for  brief  prayer,  also  to  give 
them  more  freedom. 

Going  to  the  matron's  room,  I  bowed  before  the 
Lord,  earnestly  petitioned  to  know  the  mind  of  his 
Spirit,  and  sought  a  test.  The  test  was  this:  If  it 
was  his  will  that  I  accept  this  office,  the  board 
should,  on  my  return  for  further  conference,  give 
satisfactory  answers  to  the  following  questions: 
"Are  you  willing  to  incorporate.''"  "Are  you  will- 
ing to  change  the  name  of  the  home.''"  and  "Are 
you  willing  to  purchase  desirable  property.''" 


9JM  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

When  I  was  once  more  in  their  midst,  the  presi- 
dent, in  the  name  of  the  board,  honored  me  with 
the  above-mentioned  call,  stating  in  detail  its  ne- 
cessities. Responding  with  words  of  appreciation, 
I  propounded  the  three  questions  named. 

Answer  No.  I:  "Yes,  quite  willing,  but  unable 
to  do  so,  for  lack  of  funds.    An  empty  treasury." 

Answer  No.  2:  "Can  you  suggest  a  better 
name .''" 

"Yes,  a  God-given  one,"  I  answered.  Then  I 
stated  the  objection  of  many  who  disliked  being 
styled,  "One  of  the  Rescue  Home  girls."  I  sug- 
gested "Beth-Adriel,"  meaning  "House  of  the  flock 
of  God."  All  being  delighted  with  this  name,  it 
was  adopted. 

Answer  No.  3 :  "Yes,  if  you  will  accept  the  of- 
fice of  field  representative." 

In  the  name  of  the  Lord  I  accepted;  then  agreed 
to  pay  for  incorporation  (a  matter  that  was  im- 
mediately attended  to)  and  to  place  the  remainder 
of  the  money  in  my  posession,  minus  five  dollars, 
into  the  Beth-Adriel  treasury.  (This  sum  amounted 
to  over  three  hundred  dollars.) 

Before  the  board  adjourned,  Lucy,  at  my  re- 
quest, was  appointed  assistant  matron,  and  a  most 
eflBcient  one  she  proved,  until  illness  compelled  her 
resignation  several  months  later. 

All  the  details  of  the  preliminaries  being  duly 


WITH    THB    OUTCAST.  SS5 

attended  to,  I  now  proceeded  to  fill  official  engage- 
ments, the  first  of  which  the  following  press  no- 
tice  announced : 

Mrs.  Florence  Roberts,  a  singring:  evangelist 
and  noted  speaker,  will  sing:  and  speak  In  the 
Presbyterian  church  of  Los  Gatos,  Sunday  eve- 
ning. Mrs.  Roberts  is  the  field  secretary  of  the 
non-sectarian  industrial  home  for  women  in  San 
Jose;  the  same  is  now  being:  incorporated  under 
the  name  of  Beth-Adriel. 

The  Lord  graciously  encouraged  me  with  a  large 
and  deeply  interested  congregation,  who  contribu- 
ted liberally  toward  the  fund.  (This  was  in  No- 
vember, 1903,  four  months  from  the  time  of  mj 
leaving  San  Francisco  for  Redwood  City  with  sixty 
cents  in  my  purse.  Traveling  and  other  expenses 
came  out  of  the  fund.  Praise,  oh !  praise  the 
blessed  Redeemer  forever!) 

The  following  notice  is  copied  from  the  San  Jose 
Mercury,  May  7,  1904: 

IiAND     FOS     BETB-ADBIi:i;     BOMS. 
Tlie  California  Non-sectarian  Borne  for  Women. 

Three  years  ag:o  last  September  a  number  of 
Christian  men  and  women  established  a  home  at 
673  East  St.  John  Street  for  unfortunate  women 
and  girls.  The  work  still  continues  at  the  same 
place.  Last  autumn  it  was  incorporated,  but  to 
adequately  carry  out  the  Intentions  of  the  home, 
there  has  always  been  felt  the  need  of  a  perma- 
nent building:,  planned  with  reference  to  the  work. 

Throug:h  the  g-eneroslty  of  parties  interested, 
there  is  a  little  sum  on  hand  toward  the  purchase 
of  land. 

The   board   desires   to   secure   a   piece   of   land 


226  FIFTEEN    YEARS 


from  two  to  five  acres,  where  the  inmates  of 
the  home  can  raise  chickens  also  cultivate  flow- 
ers, plants,  etc.,  giving:  them  a  percentagre  on 
their  efforts  to  encouragre  them. 

The  opportunity  is  now  g-iven  to  some  philan- 
thropic party  to  either  donate  or  sell  on  easy 
terms  land,  as  above  described,  on  or  near  any 
one  of  the  car  lines. 


Immediately  following  our  first  Christmas  in 
Beth-Adriel  I  was  taken  suddenly  and  dangerously 
ill,  so  that  my  life  was  despaired  of.  Many  were 
the  prayers  for  my  restoration.  How  devoted  were 
my  dear  young  friends,  especially  Lucy  and  Anna ! 
Praise  God !  I  was  unable  to  resume  my  duties 
until  April,  1904.  Then  I  responded  to  a  call 
from  Boulder  Creek,  a  lovely  town  in  Santa  Cruz 
mountains;  next  I  went  to  Watsonville  and  vicin- 
ity; and  after  that  I  returned  home  for  a  rest,  for 
I  was  not  yet  very  strong.  I  arrived  at  home 
June  first. 

Being  impressed  that  my  next  field  of  labor  was 
to  be  in  a  city  in  the  extreme  northern  part  of  Cali- 
fornia, I,  after  a  week  of  loving  intercourse  with 
my  precious  girls,  sailed  for  Eureka,  Humboldt 
County,  arriving  there  on  June  8,  1904.  As  usual, 
the  local  papers  immediately  announced  my  com- 
ing, one  saying,  through  the  interviewing  reporter, 
that  I  had  $1,200  toward  purchasing  property. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  227 

Two  days  later  I  was  the  guest  of  Rev.  and 
Mrs.  Franklin  Baker,  whose  home  became  my  head- 
quarters during  my  stay  of  over  two  months'  dura- 
tion. I  was  now  in  an  excellent  field  of  labor 
amongst  the  fallen.  Moreover,  I  fulfilled  pulpit 
engagements  in  practically  every  church  and  or- 
ganization in  Humboldt  County. 

From  noon  until  about  5  P.  M.  each  day  (with 
very  few  exceptions)  I  was  engaged  in  house- 
to-house  work  in  the  undesirable  districts.  After 
word  had  been  passed  around  that  I  was  sincerely 
the  friend  of  the  fallen,  many  a  poor  wandering 
girl  listened  with  profound  respect  to  God's  loving 
message  in  word  and  song.  Even  most  of  the 
landladies  of  these  houses  of  sin  and  shame  invited 
me  in,  when  convenient.  Frequently  have  I  been 
humbly  asked  to  join  them  at  their  repasts.  Never 
did  I  refuse.  (Reader,  our  Savior  ate  with  publi- 
cans and  sinners ;  are  we,  professed  Christians, 
better  than  he?  God  forbid!)  What  golden  op- 
portunity to  converse  whilst  we  ate!  How  the 
best,  the  very  best,  would  then  rise  to  the  surface! 

On  one  of  these  occasions  B F ,  soon  to 

quit  forever  this  mode  of  living,  said: 

"Mother  Roberts,  I've  a  friend  close  by.  She's 
taken  to  drinking  heavily  lately;  otherwise  she's 
refined  and  accomplished.  Can  you  spare  time  to 
see  her  today?" 


228  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

"Most  assuredly,  B — ' — .  Can  you  accompany 
me?" 

She  gladly,  hurriedly  changed  her  attire,  and 
soon  appeared,  heavily  veiled. 

"Why  are  you  veiled,  B — • — •?"  I  asked. 

"I  don't  suppose  you  will  want  to  be  seen  walk- 
ing on  the  street  with  me,  Mother  Roberts,"  she 
replied. 

With  my  own  hands  I  removed  the  veil  whilst 
the  tears  of  tender,  humble  appreciation  and  love, 
gathered  and  flowed  down  her  cheeks.  We  were 
soon  at  J — ■ — ''s  place,  where  B— - — '  knocked  at 
a  side  door,  because  of  the  noise  of  carousal  in 
the  front  of  the  house.  A  beautiful  but  greatly 
intoxicated  young  woman  opened  the  door  and  be- 
gan upbraiding  B — ' —  for  bringing  me.  But  B — • — 
marched  right  in,  pulling  me  after  her. 

"We'll  go  into  your  bedroom  if  no  one's  there, 
J — ' — "  she  said,  and  forthwith  proceeded  to  do 
so. 

"B — I — ',  you  shouldn't  have  done  this.  I'm 
drunk.  I  don't  want  a  lady  like  this  one  to  see  me 
in  such  a  beastly  state.  You  shouldn't  have  done 
it,  B — — •,"  said  poor  J — « — s. 

Such  a  noise  of  rowdyism  was  proceeding  from 
the  front  room  that  presently  she  said:  "I'll  stop 
that !"  and  to  me,  "Please  excuse  me  a  moment." 

There  was  a  hush  and  then  soimds  of  several 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  229 

footsteps.  She  threw  her  door  wide  open,  marched 
them  all  in,  turned  the  key  in  the  lock,  and  put 
the  key  in  her  pocket.  What  did  this  mean."*  I 
soon  found  out. 

"Talk  to  them,  too.  They  all  need  it  as  much 
as  1"  she  said. 

They  surely  did.    All  told,  there  were  nine,  not 

including  B '■  and  me.     Four  were  mere  lads, 

who  were  so  ashamed  that  they  tried  to  hide  their 
features  by  pulling  their  hats  as  far  over  their 
faces  as  possible.  I  sang  a  song;  they  called  for 
another,  and  still  another.  During  the  singing  of 
the  third  one,  J — ' — ,  with  her  beautiful  hair 
streaming  about  her  face  and  shoulders  suddenly 
threw  herself  lengthwise  on  the  floor,  crying  out, 
and  calling  on  God  for  mercy.  Mary  Magdalene, 
prostrate  at  the  Master's  feet,  was  being  reenacted 
once  more.  I  quickly  knelt,  put  my  arms  around 
her,  and  prayed  and  prayed  and  prayed.  Before 
I  finished,  every  boy  and  girl  in  that  bedroom  was 
kneeling. 

Some  of  them  I  again  met,  though  never  in  such 
a  place.  As  for  J — > — *,  she  immediately  disap- 
peared, and  I  have  never  heard  of  her  since. 
B — ' — '  went  East  and  became  a  trained  nurse,  one 
who  spiritually  administers  to  the  patients  in  her 
charge. 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  WITH  THE  OUTCAST.  231 

CHAPTER   XXIV. 
THE   SUICIDE   OF   L . ^TS   AFTER-EFFECT. 

After  much  effort  and  following  repeated  calls 
with  "not  at  home"  responses,  I  at  last  was  able 
to  meet  one  Miss  Blank.  Seated  in  her  private 
reception  room,  I  listened  respectfully  to  her  re- 
cital of  vindication  because  of  her  present  position, 
and  then  told  her  the  nature  of  my  errand. 

The  door  was  partially  open.  A  beautiful,  very 
beautiful  blonde  girl  attired  in  pale  blue  stepped 
partly  in,  saying  as  she  did  so,  "May  I  come  in. 
Miss  Blank?"  "No,  not  just  now,"  was  the  an- 
swer. "I'm  engaged  for  the  next  few  minutes." 
At  her  request  I  sang. 

I  sang  a  song  entitled  "My  Mother's  Voice." 
I  was  sitting  where  I  had  a  view  of  a  portion 
of  the  stairway,  and,  as  I  sang,  I  saw  a  little 
blue  slipper  and  part  of  a  dress.  That  girl  sat 
there  listening. 

I  soon  left.  Before  doing  so  I  asked  if  I  might 
call  again,  and  received  permission. 

The  following  Sunday  evening,  after  I  had  ad- 
dressed a  large  audience  in  the  Presbyterian  church 
and  just  as  the  meeting  closed,  two  ladies  has- 
tened forward  and  thus  excitedly  addressed  the 
pastor   (Reverend  S — * — )   and  me: 

"Oh!  we  thought  the  meeting  would  never  end. 


232  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

Do  you  know  a  girl  shot  herself  just  now  in  Miss 
Blank's  house?  She  may  be  living  yet.  Hurry! 
You  may  be  able  to  get  there  in  time  to  save  her 
soul  before  she  dies."  I  ran,  without  even  my 
hat,  the  pastor  quickly  following.  When  we  rang 
the  bell.  Miss  Blank  came  to  the  door  and,  throw- 
ing herself  into  my  arms,  exclaimed: 

"Oh!  if  I  had  only  let  her  in!  if  I  had  only  let 
her  in!  Mrs.  Roberts,  it's  the  girl  who  asked  to 
come  in  the  other  day  when  you  were  calling  on 
me." 

"Is  she  living  yet.''  Quick!  let  me  see  her.  This 
is  the  Rev.  Mr.  S — '—  who  accompanies  me,"  I  said. 

"Too  late!  Mrs.  Roberts,  too  late!  She  died 
in  awful  agony  about  twenty  minutes  ago.  Those 
two  men  in  the  hall  whom  you  saw  as  you  came  in 
are  the  coroner  and  the  doctor.  Oh !  my  God ! 
my  God!  Pray,  please  pray  for  her  soul,"  wailed 
poor  Miss  Blank. 

"Miss  Blank,  she's  gone,  never  to  return.  We 
want  to  pray  for  your  precious  soul,"  pleaded 
Brother  S— ♦— ^ 

"No,  no,  oh!  no,"  wept  Miss  Blank,  and  noth- 
ing we  could  say  or  do  would  induce  her  to  kneel 
with  us.  She  only  clung  the  closer  to  me,  and  wept 
and  mourned  piteously. 

It  was  early  morning  before  we  left. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  998 

All  that  was  mortal  of  beautiful  unfortunate 
L — > — *.  had  been  removed  to  the  morgue,  and,  the 
name  and  address  of  her  parents  having  been  dis- 
covered, the  following  telegram  had  been  sent: 
"Daughter  L 1  died  suddenly.  What  disposi- 
tion of  remains  ?"  As  quickly  as  possible  came  this 
reply:  "Embalm.    Leave  for  Eureka  immediately." 

(Father's  name.) 

On  Monday  afternoon  I  was  once  more  with 
Miss  Blank,  now  suflSciently  calmed  to  relate 
this: 

"L '  was  taken  with  a  spell  of  despondency 

Saturday.  [I  was  there  Friday  afternoon.]  It 
wasn't  like  her,  for  she  usually  was  the  life  of  the 
house.  She  didn't  get  up  all  day  Sunday.  I  went 
up  after  dinner  to  try  to  jolly  her  up,  and  soon 
left  her,  as  I  thought,  more  cheerful.  Presently 
we  all  were  startled  by  the  firing  of  a  pistol,  fol- 
lowed by  some  one  screaming:  'Oh!  my  God,  my 
God !  what  have  I  done  ?  Help  me,  please,  for 
God's  sake  help  me!'  But  she  was  soon  past  all 
earthly  aid.  All  of  us  were  paralyzed  with  fear, 
as  you  may  readily  understand."  Then  she  wept,  as 
few  weep,  whilst  I  also  in  tears  sought  to  com- 
fort her  and  to  point  her  to  the  merciful  Savior, 
but  she  would  have  none  of  him.  All  I  could 
do  was  to  wait  patiently  and  pray. 

I  went  to  the  undertaker's  to  view  the  remains. 


234  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

He  and  his  wife  remarked  that  they  had  handled 
many  a  corpse^  but  none  so  beautiful  as  this  one. 
But  I  was  grieving  for  the  lost  soul.  Where,  oh! 
where  was  it  now?  Where,  where  were  the  others 
going.? 

The  steamer  arrived,  and  on  it  not  alone  the 
father  but  also  the  mother  of  beautiful  L — ■ — . 
No  one  had  expected  the  mother.  To  me  was  as- 
signed the  painful  task  of  breaking  the  news  to 
her.  I  believe  I  was  the  most  burdened  woman 
on  earth  at  that  hour  and  time.  Rev.  S — ■ — '  in- 
troduced me  to  the  stricken  father  in  the  hotel 
office,  who  presently  took  us  up  to  their  room.  To 
my  dying  day  I  shall  see  that  scene.  After  the 
introduction  to  the  mother,  the  father  and  Brother 
S — ' —  retired  to  another  room.  I  was  standing 
there  alone  with  the  mother,  who  leaned  against  the 
dressing-case,  her  hands  behind  her  back,  gripping 
the  woodwork.  She  was  a  magnificent,  majestic- 
looking  lady;  the  father  also  was  a  tall  fine-look- 
ing man.  It  was  easy  to  discover  whence  the 
daughter  had  inherited  her  beauty. 

"Who  are  you?"  she  gasped. 

I    explained. 

"Tell  me,  did  you  know  my  darling  girl?"  she 
inquired. 

"No,  dear  lady,  not  in  life,  although  I  had  seen 
her,"  I  replied. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  285 

"Where?  where  had  you  seen  her?"  she  next  in- 
terrogated. 

"In  the  house  where  she  boarded,"  I  answered. 

"Was  her  husband  with  her?"  she  inquired. 

"No,  not  that  I  heard  of,"  was  my  reply. 

Next  came  that  dreadful,  dreadful  question.  She 
shrieked  it: 

"Tell  me,  madam,  was — it — all — right — -With — 
my — 'baby — -girl?"     .  .  . 

My  tongue  clove  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth.  I 
tried  to  answer.  Not  one  word  could  I  utter.  The 
mother  with  the  exclamation.  "O  my  God!"  went 
down  in  a  heap  on  the  floor  and  I  with  her. 
For  a  long  time  the  silence  remained  unbroken. 
She  was  the  first  to  speak: 

"It  is  so  kind  of  you  to  come;  so  kind  to  help 
me  in  my  terrible  trouble.  Grod  will  reward  you. 
I  never  can.  Now,  dear,  I  must  have  particulars, 
if  its  kills  me.     To  help  get  them,  I  must  tell  you 

this:   My    L was    my   youngest,    my    petted, 

spoilt,  baby  girl.  Her  every  wish  was  gratified 
from  the  time  she  drew  her  first  breath.  Nothing 
was  too  good  for  her,  and  no  expense  spared.  We 
sent  her  to  Europe  to  complete  her  education.  Did 
you  ever  hear  her  sing?"  .  .  . 

Erelong  this  soul-stricken  mother  lay  in  her  bed 
sleeping  as  only  the  grief-exhausted  can  sleep; 
then  I  left  for  a  much-needed  rest.     After  a  few 


386  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

hours  I  returned.  When  I  left  her  late  that  night, 
she  had  sent  for  poor  terrified  Miss  Blank. 

Wlien  I  came  down-stairs  the  following  morn- 
ing, Mrs.  Baker  told  me  that  some  one  was  anxious 
to  talk  with  me  over  the  telephone — some  one 
who  would  not  give  her  name,  only  her  num- 
ber. Going  to  the  telephone,  I  soon  recognized 
Miss  Blank's  voice. 

"Good  morning,  Mrs.  Roberts,"  she  began.  "I've 
been  very  anxious  to  get  you,  but  would  not  have 
your  rest  disturbed,  as  I  was  sure  you  must  be 
worn  out.  I've  been  talking  to  L — — 's  poor  mother 
all  night  long,  and  she  has  agreed  to  a  funeral 
service  which  we  can  attend.  Neither  she  nor 
her  husband  will  be  present;  only  our  hind.  We 
want  to  know  if  you  will  conduct  it  for  us." 

"Where,  Miss   Blank.?"   I  inquired. 

"In  the  undertaker's  chapel  tomorrow  afternoon 
at  three  o'clock.  They  are  going  to  take  her  re- 
mains back  to  her  old  home  on  Monday's  steamer. 
Do  say  you  will,  Mrs.  Roberts,  please." 

I  consented,  provided  I  should  be  allowed  to 
give  a  message  to  the  living.  She  gladly  ac- 
quiesced. 

With  difficulty  I  made  my  way  through  the 
crowd  that  blocked  the  street  in  front  of  the  under- 
taker's the  following  afternoon.  None  were  ad- 
mitted but  L — I — ''s  associates.     There  she  lay,  ap- 


WiITH    THE    OUTCAST.  2«7 

parently  sleeping  sweetly,  but  this  was  only  the 
beautiful,  fast-decaying  mortal  form.  The  re- 
mains were  surrounded  by  fragrant  tributes  of 
exquisite  floral  pieces,  and  girls  dressed  in  black 
robes,  heavily  veiled,  and  weeping  bitterly.  With 
great  effort  I  at  last  spoke  and  sang.  I  do  not 
remember  if  I  had  a  text;  I  do  know  that  the  mes- 
sage came  to  the  living  straight  from  the  throne  of 
grace.  Even  until  recently  some  one  has  occa- 
sionally reminded  me  that  she  was  present  on  that 
occasion  and  that  it  brought  about  her  reformation. 

The  father  and  mother  departed  with  their  pre- 
cious burden  the  following  morning.  They  came 
early  on  board,  in  order  to  avoid  curious  eyes.  I 
spent  the  time  with  the  mother  in  their  stateroom 
until  they  sailed.  When  that  casket  was  lowered 
into  the  hold  of  the  steamer,  I  so  obstructed  the 
doorway  that  she  could  not  look  past  me. 

Before  our  final  parting  the  poor  mother  gave 
a  farewell  message  for  other  mothers.  It  was 
this: 

"Mrs.  Roberts,  I  was  too  indulgent,  too  weak, 
with  my  little  girl.  All  she  had  to  do  was  to  tease 
until  she  got  her  own  way  even  though  I  knew  it 
would  prove  to  be  detrimental  to  her  good.  If 
I  resisted  or  advised  ever  so  littie,  she  would  over- 
rule every  time. 

"When  she  returned  from  Europe,  she  sang  in 


238  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

our  church  choir  and  proved  to  be  a  great  attrac- 
tion.    She  and  the  tenor  singer,  — i — •  ^  were 

betrothed,  and  with  our  consent.  He  was  a  school- 
mate of  hers.  For  some  trifling  oflfense  on  his 
part,  she  became  angry  and  unfortunately  showed 
a  relentless  spirit;  consequently,  the  breach  wid- 
ened. 

"Poor  darling!  She  was  so  impetuous,  so  im- 
pulsive. I  have  never  quite  recovered  from  the 
shock  I  received  when  she  suddenly  announced  her 
marriage  to  an  utter  stranger — an  educated  young 
scoundrel,  as  we  soon  learned  to  our  sorrow.  Papa 
and  I  decided  to  make  the  best  of  it  now  the  deed 
was  done;  so  he  took  him  into  his  employ  in  order 
that  our  baby  girl  might  be  near  us.  He  robbed 
us  in  less  than  six  weeks  of  several  hundred  dol- 
lars; then  Papa  told  daughter  that  she  was  wel- 
come to  her  home  as  long  as  she  lived,  but  that  he 
must  go;  that  she  would  be  compelled  to  choose. 
I  know  she  did  not  want  to ;  but,  oh !  she  was  so 
proud,  and  she  would  not  give  in.  She  chose  her 
husband,  and  that  was  the  last  I  saw  of  her  until — 
Oh !  I  can  not,  can  not  bear  it,  Mrs.  Roberts !     It 

is  killing  me!" 

*********** 

"Miss  Blank  knows  him.  She  had  more  than 
once  ordered  him  out  of  her  house  for  abusing 
L — — *  and  living  off  her  dreadful  earnings.  .  .  ." 


WITH    THiE    OUTCAST.  289 

Wlhen  the  steamer  was  far  away,  almost  out  of 

sight.   Brother   S at   last   turned  to   me   and 

asked  whether  I  had  seen  L 's  dairy,  now  in 

her  father's  possession.  "No,"  I  replied;  "I  had 
no  idea  she  had  kept  one."  Then,  as  we  walked 
home,  he  repeated  some  recent  entries  in  it. 
I  give  them  to  you  as  best  my  memory  serves 
me: 

(Date)  "Just  as  I  feared:  Bert  has  been  graft- 
ing again  and  has  lost  his  job.  .  .  ." 

(Date)  "We're  going  to  Spokane.  My !  but  I'm 
homesick;  I'd  like  to  give  in,  but  I  won't!  I 
won't!  .  .  . 

(Date)  "Bert  has  secured  a  job  at  last.  Bet- 
ter  than   nothing — clerking  in   the   soda    fountain 

department  of 's  drug  store.     Hope  he'U  quit 

grafting." 

(Date)  "I've  a  good  position  now  in — ''s 

cloak  and  suit  house.  Afraid  I  can't  keep  it  long, 
my  health  is  so  poor  lately.  ..." 

(Date)  "Bert  and  I  had  words  tonight.  He's 
quit.     I  suppose  he  had  to." 

(Date)  "There's  a  very  pleasant  lady  in  the 
next  bed  to  mine  [sanitarium].  I'm  going  back 
with  her  when  she  goes  home,  and  until  Bert  is 
on  his  feet  again.  .  .  ." 

(Date)  "How  much  has  happened  since  I  last 
wrote  in  my  diary!  I've  some  fine  clothes  and  jew- 


240  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

elry.  Bert  is  sporting  a  suit  of  fine  clothes  and  dia- 
mond pin,  but  — I —  I  can't  write  any  more." 

(Date)  "Miss  Blank  says  Bert  will  have  to  keep 
away.    I'm  glad  of  it.     How  I  hate  him !  .  .  ." 

(Much  later)  "A  lady  called  yesterday.  Wish 
I  might  have  talked  with  her.  Sang  about  mother. 
I  wish,  oh,  how  I  wish  — ' —  what  nonsense  I'm 
writing.  .  .  ." 

(Next  morning)  "I'm  so  wretched,  so  very 
wretched.  .  .  .  Oh!  mama,  mama,  mama!     If  you 

could  only  read  between  the  lines  — * ' —  — — 

,  -^ , . i ^." 

And  that  was  all.  No  name  was  signed.  But 
— ' — '  we  can  all  of  us  read  between  the  lines,  yes. 


all  of  us. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  241 

CHAPTER   XXV. 
GOOD    NEWS    FROM    HOME — MISS    LORAINE. 

Letters  from  different  members  of  Beth-Adriel 
board  were  now  constantly  reaching  me.  They  con- 
tained interesting  accounts  of  the  doings  at  home 
and  also  much  concerning  various  properties,  none 
of  which,  from  all  accounts,  appealed  to  my  fancy. 
Reader,  I  was  hard  to  please.  I  wanted  something 
better  than  had  as  yet  been  described.  Somehow 
I  felt  God  had  it  for  us.  Sure-enough,  as  I  dis- 
covered on  my  return  home  in  August. 

A  letter  from  the  vice-president  described  a 
property  of  ten  acres  of  orchard  and  grounds,  all 
under  cultivation;  a  commodious  dwelling,  partly 
furnished;  outhouses,  etc.,  situated  just  outside  of 
the  city  limits.  It  was  not  for  sale;  but  as  the 
owner,  who  resided  on  the  premises,  was  a  Chris- 
tian man,  it  was  thought  that  he  might,  for  such 
a  purpose,  be  induced  to  sell.  It  was  deemed  best, 
before  approaching  him  to  await  my  return.  You 
will  be  pleased  to  hear  more  concerning  this  later. 
Just  now  I  want  to  tell  you  about  Miss  Loraine. 

There  was  one  house  in  Etireka  into  which  I 
had  never  been  admitted.  One  day  whilst  I  was 
visiting  another,  the  landlady  asked: 

"Have  you  ever  called  on  Miss  Loraine?" 

"I   have   been   there   more   than   once,"    I    an- 


242  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

swered,  "but  as  yet  I  have  been  unsuccessful  in 
gaining   admittance." 

"Would  you  still  go  if  you  could?  I  can 
get  you  in.  I  am  a  personal  friend  of  hers," 
said  Miss v. 

"Thank  you,  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  have  you 
make  the  necessary  arrangements,"  I  replied,  upon 
which  she  went  to  her  telephone,  took  down  the 
receiver,  and  held  the  following  conversation: 

"Hello!   is  that  you,   H — ' — ;?     Good  morning. 

"Quite  well,  thank  you.     How  are  you.^"  .  .  . 

"I  called  you  up  to  tell  you  of  a  lady  who  is 

calling  on  me,  and  who  would  like  very  much  to 

meet  you.     We  all  call  her  'Mother'  Roberts." 
******        ***** 

"No,  she  isn't  a  crank."  .  .  . 

"Now,  look  here,  H •,  you'll  have  to  see  her. 

You  ought  to  know  better  than. refuse  me." 
*********** 

"Well,  when  will  you  be  at  home?  At  five 
o'clock?     Wait  a  minute." 

Putting  her  hand  over  the  mouthpiece  and  turn- 
ing to  me,  she  asked:  "Can  you  call  at  five  this 
evening?" 

I  could ;  so  she  made  arrangements,  hung  up  the 
receiver,  and  then  wrote  a  note  of  introduction, 
wording  it  thus: 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  248 


Dear  H : 

This  will  introduce  my  friend,  Mother  Roberts. 
She  is  all  O.  K.  Hopingr  you  will  have  a  pleasant 
time  together. 

Yours  as   ever. 


This  I  presented  with  my  card  at  Miss  Lo- 
raine's  door  at  exactly  five  o'clock.  A  Japanese 
page  dressed  in  uniform  ushered  me  into  a  con- 
ventional but  well-furnished  reception-room.  There 
sat  a  young  woman  in  a  handsome  silk  negligee, 
who  invited  me  to  be  seated,  remarking  that  Miss 
Loraine  was  out,  but  would  soon  return,  and  that 
she  was  to  entertain  me  in  the  interval.  In  a  few 
minutes  there  came  up  the  steps  and  then  entered 
the  room  three  splendid-looking  young  women, 
richly  attired.  The  one  in  black  silk.  Miss  Lo- 
raine, received  me  with  all  the  manners  of  a  lady 
of  birth  and  good  breeding,  and  soon  asked  me  if 
I  would  come  with  her  to  her  private  quarters,  so 
that  we  could  converse  undisturbed.  I  followed 
her  up-stairs  into  a  Dresden-draped  bedroom,  where 
ensued   the   following  conversation: 

"Mrs.  Roberts,  I  feel  I  owe  you  an  apology  for 
not  sooner  receiving  you.  To  be  candid  with  you, 
my  door  is  closed  to  all  who  have  not  made  pre- 
vious engagements;  then,  too,  I  shrink  from  the 
embarrassment  of  meeting  any  ladies  from  the 
better  walks  of  life,"  etc. 


244  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

Wliilst  endeavoring  to  reassure  her,  I  happened 
to  look  at  a  silver-framed  photograph  of  a  hand- 
some^  white-haired  old  gentleman.  Quickly  re- 
marking this,  she  reverently  handed  it  to  me,  say- 
ing: 

"I  notice  you  are  attracted  to  this.  Would  you 
think  there  was  anything  out  of  the  common  in 
any  of  these  features?" 

Upon  my  replying  in  the  negative,  she  added: 

"This  is  the  photograph  of  my  dearly  loved  fa- 
ther.    He  is  stone  blind." 

I  expressed  my  astonishment,  for  there  was  no 
indication  in  the  picture. 

After  a  pause  she  said,  "Mrs.  Roberts,  will  you 
please  do  me  a  favor?" 

"If  it  lies  in  my  power,"  I  replied. 

"It  does,"  was  her  rejoinder.  "Will  you  honor 
me  by  dining  with  me  this  evening,  half  an  hour 
hence  ?" 

For  one  second  I  hesitated,  but  on  interpreting 
her  expression  I  instantly  replied,  "With  pleasure," 
for  like  a  flash  came  a  mental  vision  of  the  King 
of  kings  dining  with  Simon  the  leper  (Mark  14: 
8-9).  Then  she  absented  herself  for  a  few  min- 
utes, doubtless  to  make  necessary  arrangements. 

"I  feel  disposed,  if  you  care  to  listen,"  she  said 
on  her  return,  "to  give  you  a  synopsis  of  my 
life." 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  245 

I  assured  her  of  a  great  desire  to  hear  it  and, 
if  possible,  to  prove  more  than  simply  a  hearer. 
Briefly,  it   was  this: 

She  was  an  only  child  of  rich  parents.  She 
was  reared  in  a  luxurious  home,  where  card-play- 
ing, theater-going,  dancing,  and  all  other  high 
society  amusements  were  continually  indulged  in. 
When  she  was  entering  her  teens  and  most  needed 
a  mother's  care,  her  mother  died,  and  her  father 
placed  her  in  a  fashionable  boarding-school.  She 
.remained  there  until  she  was  seventeen,  when  he 
sent  her,  under  the  chaperonage  of  friends,  on  a 
trip  to  Europe. 

Whilst  she  was  in  Rome,  she  received  from  her 
father  a  cable  message  reading,  "Come  home  on 
next  steamer."  Upon  arriving  in  New  York,  she 
soon  learned  from  her  father's  lips  of  his  total 
failure  in  business  (he  was  a  stock  broker)  and 
also  of  the  fast  approaching  affliction — blindness. 
Property  of  every  description  was  swept  away.  She 
soon  secured  a  position  as  nursery  governess,  but 
erelong  she  realized  that  she  was  unqualified,  never 
having  been  coached  for  any  but  high  social  life. 

The  gentleman  (?)  whom  she  had  expected  to 
marry  some  day  proved  untrue  as  soon  as  her 
riches  fled. 

Just  at  a  time  when  her  employer  had  gently 
informed  her  of  her  inability  to  fill  her  position 


S46  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

of  governess  satisfactorily  and  of  her  (the  em- 
ployer's) intention  of  dismissing  her,  the  tempter, 
in  the  form  of  an  unprincipled  but  well-to-do  man 
about  to  make  a  trip  to  the  Pacific  Coast,  crossed 
her  path  and  ensnared  her.  Under  promise  of 
marriage,  she  agreed  to  go  with  him.  After  tell- 
ing her  now  blind  father,  who  was  being  provided 
for  out  of  her  earnings,  that  she  had  secured  a 
position  for  better  pay,  but  that  it  would  take  her 
away  from  New  York  for  a  time,  she  bade  him  a 
tearful  farewell. 

Before  long  the  rich  reprobate  deserted  her,  but 
he  was  merciful  enough  not  to  leave  her  penniless. 
With  a  considerable  sum  at  her  disposal,  and  for 
advisers  one  or  two  whose  morals  were  at  a  low 
ebb,  she  came  North  and  furnished  the  house  in 
which  I  was  now  sitting. 

She  was  in  constant  correspondence  with  her 
father,  who  supposed  that  she  was  married  and 
that  the  fifty  dollars  or  more  (never  less)  which 
he  monthly  received  came  from  his  wealthy  son- 
in-law.     And  now  hear  her  own  words: 

"Mrs.  Roberts,  I  believe  you  will  give  me  an 
honest  answer  to  my  earnest  question.  Would  it 
be  possible  for  me  to  secure  any  honorable  posi- 
tion whereby  I  might  continue  to  send  my  dear 
father  fifty  dollars  a  month,  as  well  as  live  re- 
spectably myself?" 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  24,1 

Reader,  what  answer  would  you,  had  you  been 
in  my  place,  have  made?  I  was  in  an  awkward 
position — in  the  presence  of  one  who  had  never 
attended  any  but  a  fashionable  church  and  hence 
who  knew  little  or  nothing  of  God  and  his  Son, 
one  who  had  never  been  taught  anything  which 
in  the  event  of  accidents  or  business  failures  would 
prove  practical.  She  was  indeed  and  in  truth  to 
be  pitied.     My  reply  was  a  question: 

"Could  you  not  have  kept  a  respectable  lodg- 
ing-house, my  dear   Miss   Loraine.''" 

"Perhaps,  had  I  been  advised  by  the  right  kind 
of  people,  but  I  met  the  wrong  ones,"  she  replied, 
"As  long  as  my  dear  father  lives,"  she  added,  "I 
must  send  him  this  sum  for  rent  and  ordinary 
comforts.  The  moment  word  reaches  me  of  his 
demise,  I  will  forever  cease  living  such  a  life.  I 
will  quietly  disappear  to  some  remote  corner  of 
the  globe." 

Then  she  showed  me  a  letter  just  received,  one 
beginning,  "My  dear  Son  and  Daughter."  How 
my  heart  ached  as  I  silently  prayed  to  know  what 
to  do! 

"What  about  the  inmates  of  your  house.  Miss 
Loraine.'*     How  do  you  procure  them.''" 

"Pardon  me,  but  I  can  not  explain  that.  I  will 
say,  though,  each  of  them  has  a  sad  story.  They 
are,  as  you   will  presently  infer   from   what  you 


248  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

see,  refined,  more  or  less  talented  girls;  but  they 
will  soon  drift  downward.  The  life  is  too  rapid, 
and  nature  will  not  long  stand  the  strain  and 
abuse.  I  never  interfere  if  a  girl  shows  an  inclina- 
tion to  quit;  on  the  contrary,  I  gladly  help  her." 

Here  a  gong  sounded,  announcing  dinner.  She 
preceded  me  to  the  dining-room.  When  we  en- 
tered, I  saw  five  handsome  young  women,  whose 
ages  varied  (I  should  judge)  from  eighteen  to 
twenty-six.  They  were  all  attired  in  quiet  dress, 
surely  in  honor  of  the  occasion,  which  courtesy  I 
greatly  appreciated.  Permission  being  granted,  I 
invoked  a  blessing.  The  meal  was  served  in 
courses,  and  we  were  waited  upon  by  the  Japanese 
page.  I  ate  very  sparingly,  in  fact,  made  only 
a  pretence  of  eating,  for  God's  message  lay  so 
heavily  on  my  heart  that  I  had  to  deliver  it.  They 
listened  with  wrapt  attention,  and  all  but  one  shed 
tears.  How  stolid  she  appeared  to  be!  yet  she 
was  possibly  the  one  many  months  later  most 
impressed.  I  met  her  again.  She  was  home  then 
in  her  father's  house  once  more,  but  was  not  yet 
a  Christian. 

As  for  Miss  Loraine,  I  never  saw  her  again, 
but  about  a  year  later  I  learned  that  her  father 
had  died  and  that  she  had  taken  her  departure  for 
parts  unknown.  I  can  only  pray  and  trust  that  she 
will,   if  living,  turn  to  the  ever-merciful   Savior. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  249 

CHAPTER   XXVI. 
LUCY'S    LETTER — THE    SCHOOL    TEACHER. 

On  July  29,  I  received  several  letters,  one  of 
which  is  well  worth  copying: 

Beth-Adriel,   San   Jose, 
July   27,   1904'. 
Mrs.  Florence  Roberts, 
Dear  Mother: 

I  wrote  you  a  letter  several  days  ago,  but  have  had 
no  answer  to  it  as  yet,  but  thought  I  would  write  again, 
as  it  seems  so  long  since  I  saw  or  heard  from  you. 

I  wrote  and  told  you  all  about  my  trip  to  San  Fran- 
cisco, and  what  a  good  time  I  had  [on  that  occasion 
she  visited  the  jail  where  she  was  once  a  prisoner  and 
where  she  was  converted  on  or  about  Feb.  14,  1903], 
but  I  presume  you  have  been  very  busy,  or  you  would 
have  answered. 

Well,  I  can  praise  God  for  some  wonderful  victories, 
and  I  do  praise  him  every  day.  Just  last  night  I  was 
talking  to  our  matron  [Mother  Weatherwax]  and  say- 
ing how  perfectly  wonderful  his  strength  was;  for  It  is 
his  strength,  and  not  mine,  that  has  Icept  me  up  and  is 
still  keeping  me  up  from  day   to  day. 

The  home  is  full  now.  .  .  .  "We  have  one  case  of  clear- 
cut  answer  to  prayer,  where  it  just  took  real  faith  to 
hold  on.  But  isn't  it  just  like  our  dear,  good  heavenly 
Father  to  do  and  answer  just  the  impossible.  It  was 
a  case  of  abduction  and  attempted  seduction  of  a  lovely 
Christian  girl,  the  daughter  of  a  Free  Methodist  min- 
ister, into  a  terrible  house  of  ill-fame,  one  of  those 
notorious  road-houses,  and  it  was  such  a  filthy,  vile 
place,  that  the  chief  of  police   [Carroll]   would  not  let 

Mother  W and   another  lady   go   with    the   officers 

and  the  lady's  husband  after  the  girl.  Thank  God, 
He  gave  us  the  law  on  our  side,  and  we  have  the  girl 
here  safe  and  well  and  doing  fine;  and  I  can  say  the 
same  for  all  of  the  rest  of  us  girls. 


250  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

[The  grirl  referred  to  had  come  from  her  Eastern 
home  to  southern  California  for  her  health.  As  her 
means  were  limited,  she  soug-ht  employment,  and  one 
day  answered  an  attractive  advertisement  for  a  house- 
keeper for  an  invalid  lady.  A  favorable  reply,  urging 
her  to  come  at  once,  quickly  came,  stating  that  in  the 
event  of  her  paying  her  fare  it  would  be  refunded  on 
her  arrival,  also  that  she  would  be  met  at  the  San 
Jose  depot  by  a  lady  wearing  a  bunch  of  red  roses  on 
her   left   breast. 

When  she  arrived,  she  was  welcomed  and  taken  in 
a  hack  to  the  awful  place  of  which  Lucy  wrote.  She 
managed  to  write  a  note  with  a  match  stem,  wrapped 
the  paper  round  a  small  piece  of  rock  which  she  found 
in  the  room  where  she  was  imprisoned,  and  prayerfully 
threw  them  through  the  grating  toward  a  man  who 
was  watering  his  horses  at  the  trough  and  who  evi- 
dently knew  the  nature  of  this  notorious  resort.  Praise 
God,  the  stone  did  not  miss  its  mark.  The  man  was 
wise  enough  to  notify  the  authorities,  and  that  place 
was   compelled   to   go  out  of  business  in   short  order.] 

I  have  not  been  able  to  go  to  church  for  three  weeks 
now,  but  God  is  here  at  home  with  me,  and  I  am  learn- 
ing more  of  him  every  day.  My  verse  for  today  was 
EiZek.  34:  12,  and  I  think  it  is  so  beautiful,  especially 
about  the  dark  and  cloudy  days. 

We  went  to  Alum  Rock  [a  beautiful  resort  adja- 
cent to  San  Jose]  three  weeks  ago  Thursday,  and  I 
got  so  badly  poisoned  [poison-oak]  that  there  was  not 
an  inch  of  my  body  that  was  not  covered  and  my  eyes 
were  swollen  shut  for  two  days.  I  was  sick  in  bed  with 
it  all  day  the  Fourth  and  here  alone;  but  not  alone, 
for  if  ever  I  had  a  happy  day,  it  was  that.  Lots  of 
times  I  feel  discouraged  to  think  I  can  not  remember 
the  Scriptures  that  I  read,  but  it  was  just  marvelous 
the  way  they  would  roll  over  my  mind  on  those  two 
or  three  days  that  I  could  not  see  even  to  read.  I 
believe  God  just  wanted  me  to  see  when  my  eyes, 
hands,  tongue  and  feet  were  quiet  how  active  my  mind 
was. 

My  head  and  throat  are  still  very  bad,  and  I  go  to 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  251 

the  doctor  about  three  times  a  week,  but  still  have 
those  terrible  ulcers  g:atherin&  and  breaking  in  my  head. 
I  am  so  thin  that  I  can  not  wear  the  black  dress  you 

made    me    at    all.      Mother    W says    she    is    afraid 

something  will  give  way  in  my  head  one  of  these 
days.  She  wants  me  to  go  home  for  a  rest,  but  if  I  did, 
then  Mama  [her  own  mother]  wouldn't  come  here  for 
a  rest,  and  I  want  her  to  have  a  rest,  and  then,  too,  I 
would  have  to  ask  them  to  send  me  money  to  go  home 
on.     [Lucy's    services    were    gratuitious.] 

Just  the  other  day  I  was  reading  how  much  Delia 
did  for  the  Lord  in  her  short  Christian  life  [Before 
conversion  known  as  the  "Blue  Bird"  of  Mulberry 
Bend  of  New  York],  and  it  has  made  me  feel  bad;  for 
here  I  have  been  saved  over  a  year,  and  what  have  I 
done?  It  is  said  that  she  had  over  six  hundred  souls 
in  three  months,  and  I  can  not  claim  one  that  I  know 
of.  I  know  that  I  have  tried  to  be  what  God  would 
have  me  be,  if  ever  a  girl  did  try.  [Indeed,  indeed 
you  have,  dear  child,  and  God  smiles  on  you  for  it.] 

There  is  one  thing  sure.  I  have  prayed  a  great  deal 
for  you  lately  for  ever  since  two  weeks  ago  Tuesday 
night,  which  was  our  prayer-meeting  night  of  course, 
I  had  a  real  hard  fight  with  Satan,  and  he  had  tried 
to  get  the  better  of  my  better  self,  and  Miss  Sisson 
came  and  told  of  your  being  at  a  house  to  see  the  land- 
lady and  then  of  yotir  going  back  in  a  few  days  to 
preach  the  funeral  services  over  the  dead  body  of  one 
of  the  girls  [suicide].  Oh,  how  it  helped  me  to  see 
what  I  had  been  spared  from  and  how  much  I  had  to 
praise  God  for!  and  it  also  showed  me  how  many 
prayers  you  needed  to  help  you  in  your  work,  and  so 
I  have  held  you  up  more  than  ever  before  His  throne, 
and  maybe  if  I  can  not  reap  myself,  I  can  pray  for 
those  that  are  in  the  field. 

God  has  been  so  good  that  all  through  ray  sickness 
I  have  missed  but  two  days'  work,  that  is,  there  were 
but  two  days  that  I  was  not  able  to  get  the  meals  (all 
of  them).  It  is  perfectly  wonderful,  the  strength,  will- 
ingness, and  determination  He  will  give  us  if  we  but 
want  it. 


252  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

Sometimes  lately  when  my  head  has  been  so  bad, 
I  have  thougrht,  what  if  I  should  be  taken  now.  It 
would   be   grand   to   go   home;    but   I   have   talked   with 

Mother   W' so   much    lately,   and    I   do   not   feel    I 

could  go  till  I  have  done  something:  for  Him  who  did 
so  much  for  me.  Pray  for  me,  Mother,  that  I  may 
get  better  and  do  something.  I  want  to  go  and  tell 
Mattie  [a  former  companion  in  sin]  and  the  girls,  that 
what  God  has  done  for  me  he  will  do  for  them. 

I'll  tell  you  what  Doctor  A says  is   the  matter 

with  me.  She  examined  me,  tested  my  blood,  and  said 
it  was  not  in  the  system  from  disease  of  myself,  but 
that  sometime,  when  my  throat  was  sore,  I  inhaled  the 
germs  from  some  sick  person,  that  the  throat  was  just 
in  the  condition  for  them  to  germinate,  and  now  my 
throat  and  ear  are  eaten  out  terribly.  [Cigarette-smok- 
ing the  probable  cause.]  She  hasn't  said  she  couldn't 
cure  me,  but  that  it  will  take  a  year's  solid  and  con- 
tinuous treatment,  without  any  neglectfulness  whatso- 
ever. 

Oh!  isn't  It  true  that  if  we  sow  to  the  flesh,  we  must 
reap  corruption.  I  know  that  I  did,  and  am  willing  to 
suffer  the  pain  and  endure  if  I  can  only  tell  others — 
yes — warn  them.  But  I  know  that  I  can  not  do  it  away 
from  here  until  I  can  do  it  better  here,  so  I  want  more 
courage  to  do  it  better  here. 

Mama  doesn't  know  much  about  my  throat,  only  what 
Mother  W wrote  her  that  time. 

Oh!  this  is  an  awfully  long  letter,  so  I  must  close 
it.     I  am  nervous  and  can't  write  well. 

Pray  for  us,  as  we  pray  for  you.  Everybody  sends 
you   their  love,  and  God   bless  you. 

Your  daughter  in  faith, 

Lucy  . 

How  I  loved  to  receive  her  appreciative,  newsy 
letters !  but  oh,  how  they  saddened  me  as  I  more 
than  ever  realized  the  truth  of  that  statement  that 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  258 

"whatsoever  we  sow,  that  shall  we  also  reap." 
Gal.  6:7. 

But  one  more  incident  and  story  before  we  leave 
Eureka. 

One  day,  on  one  of  my  house-to-house  visits, 
and  following  considerable  disappointment,  for  so 
few  were  at  home,  or  else  the  inmates  did  not 
want  to  receive  me,  I  at  last  received  a  response 
from  a  frail-looking  woman  of  about  twenty- four 
years  of  age,  who  said,  "I  should  very  much  like 
to  have  a  heart-to-heart  talk  with  you,  but  this 
is  no  place  for  it.     Can  you  come  to  my  private 

room  in  the '  lodging-house.     Go  to  room 

No.  — ,  first  floor  at  1 :  30  tomorrow,  where  we  can 
converse  undisturbed." 

At  the  appointed  time  I  was  kindly  received, 
and  soon  I  was  listening  to  her  troubles;  but  be- 
fore rehearsing  them  she  called  my  attention  to  a 
framed  diploma  on  her  wall,  a  teacher's  certifi- 
cate. 

"Have  you  taught  school?"  I  inquired. 

She  simply  answered,  "Yes." 

"Are  you  not  taking  great  chances  by  having 
that  where  strangers  can  see  it?"  I  asked. 

"No,"  she  replied;  "I  do  my  own  work,  and 
have  a  patent  lock,  so  that  none  but  my  husband 
and  me  have  access  to  this  room." 

I  was  still  more  at  sea.     Over  the  head  of  her 


254  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

bed  hung  a  picture  which  I  never  shall  forget. 
Let  me  endeavor  to  describe  it: 

The  beautiful  nude  form  of  a  young  woman  lay 
on  a  couch.  Horror  was  depicted  upon  her  coun- 
tenance, and  she  was  frantically  but  vainly  strug- 
gling to  free  herself  from  the  great  boa-constrictor 
which  had  coiled  his  ugly  thick  body  about  her. 
Standing  beside  her  and  looking  on  with  a  dread- 
ful expression  of  devilish  satisfaction  was  a  rep- 
resentation of  Satan,  whilst  coming  in  at  the  open 
door  reeled  a  young  man  in  a  woeful  state  of  in- 
toxication. 

The  old,  old  dreadful  story!  When,  oh!  when 
will  they  ever  profit  by  this  only  too  true  picture, 
being  really  enacted  every  day,  every  hour,  by 
some   mother's   wandering   girl? 

Would  that  I  might  be  able  to  tell  you  that 
this  ex-school  teacher  yielded  to  our  Lord  and 
Savior,  but  alas !  that  boa-constrictor  had  too  firm 
a  grip  on  her.     Listen  to  her  story: 

"Less  than  four  years  ago,  I  was  a  happy  young 
woman,  living  with  my  parents  in  the  South,  in  a 
modest  but  very  happy  home,  and  surrounded  by 
loving  friends. 

"My  downfall  dates  from  a  picnic.  I  was  ex- 
ceedingly fond  of  dancing,  with  no  ill  effect  from 
indulging  in  what  hitherto  I  had  regarded  as  a 
most  innocent  pastime,  but  that  day  I  was  intro- 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  255 

duced  to  one  who  peculiarly  affected  me.  Why, 
I  used  to  laugh  to  scorn,  and  express  contempt 
for,  any  one  who  could  be  so  very  weak  as  to 
succumb  to  evil  influences  through  the  dance,  never 
dreaming  that  my  day  of  doom  would  come. 

"How  I  loved  him !  and  how  I  hugged  my  secret ! 
At  least,  so  I  thought;  but  he  read  me,  read  me 
like  a  book.  He  was  a  traveling  man,  and  showed 
me  many  excellent  letters.  I  told  my  parents,  who 
felt  interested,  and  the  next  thing  I  was  enjoying 
his  company  in  our  home,  where  he  made  himself 
very  agreeable  to  the  old  people.  Soon  I  was 
attending  several  social  functions,  some  at  his  in- 
vitation, particularly  where  there  was  dancing,  for 
I  loved  to  feel  his  arms  about  me,  his  breath  on 
my  cheek. 

"A  day  came  when,  for  love  of  him,  I  bartered 
my  soul.  The  remorse  which  soon  followed  was 
so  deep  that  I  took  what  little  money  I  had,  stole 
away  from  home,  and  my  relatives  haven't  seen 
or  heard  from  me  since,  although  I  hear  of  them 
through  a  trusted  friend,  who  has  promised  not  to 
further  bruise  the  old  folks'  hearts  by  letting  them 
know  of  my  downfall  or  whereabouts.     I'm  dead 

to  them  forever;  dead  to  them  forever! 

********** 

"I  was  the  supposed  wife  of  my  first  love  for 
over  a  year.     How  I  begged  him  to  marry  me !  but 


256  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

he  only  laughed  and  asked  if  I  wanted  to  have  him 
arrested  for  bigamy.     Then  he  left  me. 

"My  baby  was  born  dead.  Thank  God  for 
that!  and  now  as  soon  as  able,  I  must  move  on. 

"Some  of  these  girls  on  the  downward  path  are 
so  kind-hearted,  Mrs.  Roberts." 

"Yes,  Saidie,  I  know  it  well,"  I  said.  "I've 
been  their  friend  for  several  years,  and  I  know 
many  of  them  and  their  good  traits  and  deeds; 
but  pardon  me  for  interrupting." 

"I  drifted  from  place  to  place,"  she  continued; 
"now  I'm  here — ^here  facing  an  awful  future.  No 
God,  no  home,  sick  in  body  and  soul,  not  fit  to 
live  and  certainly  not  fit  to  die." 

"How  happened  it  that  you  met  the  man  you 
called  your  husband,  Saidie.''"  I  asked. 

"Just  as  nine-tenths  of  them  do,"  she  replied. 
"We  take  up  with  some  one  who  is  seemingly  kind. 
It's  an  awful  mistake.  They  profit  at  our  expense 
every  day.  They  take  our  earnings  of  sin,  and 
ure  often  brutal  besides,"  she  sobbed. 

"But  does  not  the  vagrancy  law  protect  you?" 
I  asked. 

"No;  not  so  long  as  they  can  prove  they  are 
working,"  she  answered.     "He  is  a  bar-tender," 
.    "Saidie,  I  want  you  to  leave  this  life,"  I  pleaded. 
Come  with  me,  dear.     I  will  treat  you  as  though 
you  were  in  deed  and  in  truth  my  own  daughter. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  257 

Listen^  I  will  even  go  further ;  you  shall  travel  with 
me.  I  need  an  amanuensis  and  secretary.  I  am 
overworked,  dear.  Say  you  will,  and  I  will  make 
all  the  necessary  arrangements." 

How  I  begged  her  to  consent!  I  wanted  to 
take  her  then  and  there,  but,  unfortunately,  no  one 
I  knew  would  harbor,  even  temporarily,  such  a 
girl,  until  I  was  ready  to  leave — not  one.  I  could 
linger  no  longer  that  day,  excepting  for  short  earn- 
est prayer,  in  which  she  took  no  part.  We  agreed 
to  meet  the  following  day  at  noon  in  a  certain 
restaurant,  where  we  could  enjoy  privacy.  She  kept 
the  appointment,  but  something — ■!  could  only  con- 
jecture— something  had  cooled  her  ardor.  I  ap- 
parently made  very  little  headway  with  the  Mas- 
ter's message.  She  was  silent,  obdurate,  and  she 
soon  left.  The  next  day  I  followed  her  up,  only 
to  learn  from  the  scrub-woman  that  Saidie  was 
intoxicated.  Again  I  called;  for  I  was  to  take 
the  next  steamer,  and  felt  I  must  make  one  more 
effort  in  her  behalf.  I  was  told  that  she  had  re- 
ceived bad  news,  that  she  was  drinking  deeper 
than  ever  to  drown  her  misery,  and  that  it  would 
be  worse  than  useless  to  see  her.  After  return- 
ing to  San  Jose,  I  wrote  a  renewal  of  my  offer, 
but  received  no  reply.  In  all  probability  poor 
Saidie,  another  victim  of  the  dance,  now  lies  in  one 
of  the  nameless  graves. 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  WITH  THE  OUTCAST.  259 

CHAPTER     XXVII. 

SAN   QUENTIN— WE   SECURE   A   LOVELY 
PROPERTY. 

On  or  about  August  18,  1904,  I  was  in  San 
Francisco.  Thence  I  went  to  San  Quentin,  State's 
prison,  where  I  was  graciously  given  an  oppor- 
tunity of  addressing  over  one  thousand  prisoners 
and  also  of  having  many  individual  heart-to-heart 
talks,  the  latter  a  favor  which  has  been  granted 
me  for  many  years.  At  this  time  there  was  no 
admission  into  the  women's  quarters;  under  the 
new  and  present  administration  I  have  been  al- 
lowed this  valuable  privilege.  To  see  the  faces 
light  up  and  to  hear  the  hearty  expressions 
from  warden,  officers,  and  prisoners  was  always 
well  worth  a  special  trip  at  any  time ;  consequently, 
I  looked  forward  with  pleasure,  though  sad  at 
heart,  to  visiting  our  penitentiaries  whenever  op- 
portunity afforded.  Sometimes  my  efforts  seemed 
barren  of  results,  but  only  in  eternity  may  we 
learn  of  the  good  accomplished  through  faithful 
seed-sowing. 

On  this  particular  occasion  I  had  requested  of 
Captain  Ellis  (captain  of  the  guard)  an  inter- 
view with  a  young  girl,  sentenced  for  two  years 
(I  think)  for  robbery.  Before  leaving  me,  she 
told  me  of  an  old  woman,  a  life  prisoner,  who  had 


260  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

not  seen  the  outside  of  the  women's  quarters  in 
over  twenty  years,  and  asked  me  if  I  would  not 
please  give  her  the  next  call.  Captain  Ellis  hav- 
ing consented,  I  was  soon  shaking  hands  with  a 
very  neat,  white-haired  life  prisoner.  In  a  few 
moments  she  asked  me  if  I  would  have  any  ob- 
jection to  her  gazing  out  of  the  window  at  the 
beautiful  bay  and  scenery,  it  having  been  so  very 
many  years  since  she  had  enjoyed  that  pleasure. 
You  can  never  know  the  impression  made  on 
me  by  this  humble  request;  my  only  regret  may 
be  readily  surmised.  How  I  do  praise  God  that 
he  put  it  into  the  heart  and  mind  of  the  present 
matron,  Mrs.  Genevieve  Gardner-Smith,  to  ap- 
peal to  kind-hearted  Warden  Hoyle  and  the  board 
of  prison  directors  for  a  special  concession  in  be- 
half of  all  the  well-behaved  women  prisoners.  She 
asked  for  a  monthly  holiday,  to  consist  of  a  two- 
and-a-half  hours'  walk  within  the  grounds  on  God's 
beautiful  green  hills,  so  that  these  poor  women 
might  briefly  feast  to  their  heart's  content  on  the 
lovely  landscape  and  view  of  San  Francisco's  un- 
surpassable bay.  A  motion  being  made  and  passed, 
one  of  the  many  new  and  excellent  concessions  is 
this  one  of  a  Sunday  walk  on  the  hills  once  a 
month  in  charge  of  the  matron,  after  the  male  pris- 
oners are  locked  in  for  the  day.  The  first  time 
this   occurred,   some   of   these   poor   women   knelt 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  861 

on  mother  earth  and  bathed  it  with  their  tears.  Ah ! 
reader,  are  you  not,  with  me,  daily  demonstrating 
the  fact,  that  only  godly  wisdom,  coupled  with  love, 
can  win? 

My  visit  was  all  too  short.  I  had  to  hasten  to 
San  Jose,  where  the  board  of  Beth-Adriel  man- 
agers were  awaiting  my  arrival  to  inspect  some 
properties.  Please,  if  you  can,  imagine  the  wel- 
come home  from  my  dear  Lucy,  Anna,  and  the 
rest  of  the  family.  A  warm  attachment  soon  de- 
veloped between  the  new  matron.  Mother  Weather- 
wax,  and  me.  She  held  the  matronal  office  until 
health  no  longer  permitted.  (Our  readers  will 
probably  have  observed  the  tendency  toward  ill- 
ness on  the  part  of  the  workers.  In  this  branch 
of  home  missionary  work  there  is  a  great  need  of 
strong  physique  and  nerves;  otherwise  there  will 
be  frequent  prostration  from  the  constant  strain 
on  the  system.) 

The  first  joyous  greetings  over,  next  in  order 
was  inspection  of  property.  After  many  trips  for 
this  purpose  I  at  last  saw  a  place  which  delighted 
my  heart;  but — 'would  the  owner  part  with  it.^"  It 
was  the  one  spoken  of  previously — the  one  con- 
sisting of  ten  acres,  a  commodious  house,  etc. 
Some  of  the  members  of  the  board  knew  the  owner, 
Mr.  R.  D.  Norton.  We  were  all  in  the  spirit  of 
prayer  whilst  they  laid  the  matter  before  him.   He 


262  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

asked  for  time  to  consider,  the  ultimate  result  of 
which  was  his  decision  to  sell  it  for  such  a  pur- 
pose. Oh,  how  we  thanked  and  praised  our  kind 
heavenly  Father!  The  purchase  price  was  $10, 
000 — $2,000  to  be  paid  by  October  9,  the  remainder 
on  time  at  six  per  cent  interest.  Above  all  ex- 
penses, there  was  now  in  our  treasury  $1,300. 
We  gladly  agreed  to  accept  the  proposed  terms 
and  to  wait  on  the  Lord  for  enough  means  to  make 
up  the  deficit. 

On  October  8  while  I,  with  the  other  members 
of  the  board,  was  in  Judge  Rhode's  court  nego- 
tiating for  the  mortgage,  word  was  sent  over  the 
telephone  that  Mrs.  Mary  Hayes-Chynoweth,  now 
deceased,  would  like  to  have  me  come  to  her  resi- 
dence, Edenvale,  a  most  beautiful  spot  adjacent 
to  San  Jose.  There  was  barely  time  to  make  the 
train,  but  the  Lord  was  on  my  side.  It  being 
a  few  minutes  late,  I  caught  it,  and  was  shortly 
in  earnest  conversation  with  this  charitably  dis- 
posed elderly  lady.  She  asked  me  many  ques- 
tions and  introduced  me  to  her  daughters-in-law, 
Mrs.  J.  O.  and  Mrs.  E.  A.  Hayes,  who  listened 
with  marked  attention  to  my  recitals.  Presently 
Mrs.  Chynoweth  said,  "Mrs.  Roberts,  I  am  going 
to  request  you  to  excuse  me  briefly.  I  wish  to 
pray  with  regard  to  this  matter;  my  daughters  will 
be  pleased  to  entertain  you  during  my  absence." 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  268 

In  about  a  half  hour  she  called  both  of  them  for 
private  conference,  leaving  me  with  some  of  the 
grandchildren.  Soon  I  was  invited  into  the  next 
room.  With  a  smile,  this  dear  lady  said,  "I  feel 
that  God  wishes  me  to  give  you  $500."  Before 
I  had  a  chance  to  speak,  the  Mmes.  Hayes  said, 
"We  will  add  $100  apiece."  Reader,  I  was  too 
happy  to  reply  immediately;  and  when  I  did, 
I  could  but  poorly  express  my  gratitude,  first  to 
God,  then  to  them. 

In  answer  to  prayer  we  had  our  $2,000 — first 
payment — according  to  agreement.  Hallelujah  ! 
A  $10,000  home  for  my  dear  prison  friends,  in 
one  year,  three  months,  and  six  days  from  the  day 
Lucy  and  I  arrived  in  Redwood  City,  strangers, 
with  two  telescope  baskets  containing  all  our 
earthly  possessions,  sixty  cents,  and  a  little  God- 
given  faith.  Hallelujah!  Did  I  regret  the  past 
toil,  privations,  and  disappointments?  Never, 
never;  but  soon  went  on  my  way  rejoicing,  to  se- 
cure future  support  and  payments. 

During  my  absence  of  little  less  than  one  month 
(for  I  was  to  return  for  the  dedicatory  exer- 
cises of  the  new  Beth-Adriel,  to  take  place  Tues- 
day, November  22,  1904)  sad  news  reached  me. 
My  poor  Lucy  was  taken  so  alarmingly  ill  as  to 
necessitate  her  immediate  removal  to  her  own 
home.     Although  I  have  often  heard  from  her,  I 


264  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

have  never  since  had  the  privilege  of  meeting  her 
face  to  face.  Her  fond  dreams  of  seeing  the 
beautiful  new  home  she  had  so  greatly  aided  in 
procuring,  were  never,  so  far  as  I  know,  realized. 
If  she  is  still  living,  I  hope  she  may  have  the 
pleasure  and  satisfaction  of  reading  this  book  and 
of  knowing  how  dearly  I  loved  her  and  how  much 
I  appreciated  her  every  effort.  This  I  know,  that 
she  sufficiently  recovered  to  resume  work  for  the 
Master;  but  on  account  of  the  removal  of  her  peo- 
ple, I  temporarily  lost  track  of  this  trophy  for  the 
Master's  crown.  God  forever  bless  her  wherever 
she  is. 

The  night  previous  to  our  removal  from  the  lit- 
tle old  home  on  St.  John  Street,  I  was  lying  on 
my  couch  in  the  parlor,  sleepless  for  very  joy, 
and  reading  God's  blessed  Word.  I  happened  to 
look  up.  On  the  wall  hung  a  motto  bearing  these 
words: 

God  has  his  best  for  those 
Who  dare  to   stand  his   tests; 

His  second  choice  for  those 
Who  win  not  have  his  best. 

"Lord!"  I  said,  "I  want  your  best." 

"My  child,"  came  my  soul-answer,  "It  is  for 
you;  but  there  are  hard  roads  still  to  travel,  hard 
battles  to  fight  and  win,  privations,  disappoint- 
ments, losses,  much  more.     'Can  thine  heart  en- 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  S65 

dtire^  or  can  thine  hands  be  strong,  in  the  days  that 
I  shall  deal  with  thee?'     Ezek.  22: 14." 

"Lord,  thou  knowest,"  I  answered. 

Then  came  a  desire  to  write.  I  took  up  tablet 
and  pencil,  always  ready  to  my  hand  on  the  lit- 
tle stand  by  my  couch,  and  spent  the  rest  of  the 
night  writing  the  rerses  that  you  will  find  in  our 
next  chapter. 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  WITH  THE  OUTCAST.  267 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
GOD'S    BEST. 

Child,  did  I  hear  you  say  you  want  my  best? 

With  nothing  less  will  you  be  satisfied? 
You  add  you'll  follow  where  I  choose  to  lead. 

Though  all  forsake,  e'en  to  be  crucified. 

You  ask  you  know  not  what  .  .  .  Well,  let  it  be 
As  you  desire  .  .  .  And  now,  a  little  test: 

Your  social  standing  I  shall  first  require; 

A  humble  place  must  bring  to  you — toiy  best. 

It  hurts?  .  .  .  Of  course  it  hurts — the  snubs,  the 
slights. 
From  those  whose  favor  you  delighted  in. 
When  they  were  told  you'd  found  "The  Priceless 
Pearl" 
And  willingly  renounced  this  world  for  Him. 

The  step  you've  taken,  they  pronounce  insane! 

Wilt  go  a  little  further  on  this  road?  .  .  . 
Your  reputation.     How  you  shrink!     Too  much  to 
pay? 

Child,  I  do  only  take  you,  at  your  word. 


268  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

Beloved  one,  still  more  I  now  desire; 

Your  worldly  comforts — e*en  your  home  which 
you  enjoy. 
Can't  part  with  them?     Step  out,  my  child,  and 
try; 
I  promise  you   I'll  substitute — ■my   joy. 

You  do  not  understand?  But  soon  you  shall: 
I'm  going  to  trust  you  in  a  hard,  hard  place; 

Therefore  destruction  of  your  idols  I  must  make. 
To  help  you  run — and  win — ihis  glorious  race. 

Come!  take  your  place  within  these  rescue  homes. 
Where  I  have  brought  some  priceless  gems  of 
earth. 

To  cleanse,  to  cut,  then  polish  for  my  crown: 
Your  services  I  need  to  enhance  their  worth. 

The  world  has  long  rejected  them  with  scorn. 
These  human  gems  from  out  the  mire  and  dust; 

A  lapidary  I  would  make  of  you. 

Whilst  I  some  precious  gems  with  you  entrust. 

Your  patience  and  forbearance  will  be  taxed 
Beyond  endurance!    And  you've  none,  you  say. 

Then  I  must  teach  these  lessons  to  you,  child; 
You  promised  to  go  with  me  all  the  way. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  S69 

The  trials  are  too  great!    Nay,  »ay  not  so. 

Privations  too!  and  disappointments  sore! 
And  just  as  the  gem  begins  to  scintillate. 

My    search-light    doth    disclose    some    dreadful 
flaw. 

And  you  must  start  anew  the  task  again.  .  .  . 

Cheer  up,  dear  child.     I  never  will  forsake. 
Come,  dry  those  tears  and  rest  a  while  with  me. 

I  soon  will  rectify  your  very  sad  mistake. 

Think  not  you  are  the  only  one  who  fails. 

For  all  have  failed.    Not  all  have  tried  again; 
Thus  have  they  missed  my  best,  for  which  they 
prayed. 
Courage.     Be  brave.     The  attempt  was  not  in 
vain. 

Now  then,  that  gem  with  such  a  dreadful  flaw. 
Bring  it  to  me.  .  .  .  Ah  yes!  I  now  will  prove 

Too  soon  the  surface  you  did  undertake 
To  polish — e'er  the  ugly  flaw's  removed. 

Plunge  it  anew  into  the  precious  blood  of  Jesus, 
Thus  anew — the  work's  begun.  .  .  . 

You're  willing?  My  beloved,  obedient  child. 
Not  many  live  the  prayer,  **Thy  wiU  be  done." 


270  FIFTEEN    YEARS 


I'm  going  to  prove  this  precious  gem  by  fire; 

'Tis  next  in  order.     This,  to  consume  the  dross. 
It's  size  will  he  reduced.     Nay,  do  not  fear; 

Perfect  and  flawless  gems  must  suffer  loss. 

For  further  process,  see  these  varied  wheels 

For  grinding,  till  the  blemished  spot  we  reach. 

Not  too  much  haste!   Be  careful.    Watch  and  pray; 
Soon  then  you'll  learn  each  lesson  as  I  teach. 

You  wish  to  know  the  names  of  all  these  wheels? 

These  two  are  Joy  and  Peace,  and  this.  Long- 
suffering. 
This  one  is  Gentleness,  then  Goodness  next. 

Now  to  the  front  the  wheel  of  Faith  I  bring. 

And   are   these   all?     Not    quite.      The   Meekness 
wheel 

So  gently  polishes.     Then  Temperance  comes  in 
To  aid  in  handling  gems  with  special  care: 

Thus  give  the  final  touch  of  polishing. 
(The  nine  fruits  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Gal.  5:  22-26.) 

You  ask  what  motive  power  propels  these  wheels. 

Dear  child,  your  teacher  is  the  God  above. 
He  tells  you.     Surely  you  have  learned  his  name: 

His  motive  power  is  Love,  and  only  Love. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  271 

Press  on,  press  on.    The  secret  now  you  know; 

The  willing,  the  obedient  stand  the  test. 
Supported  by  my  love,  your  eye  on  me. 

Surely  I  have — for  you — way  very   best. 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  WITH  THE  OUTCAST.  273 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 
DEDICATION    OF    BETH-ADRIEL. 

We  now  busied  ourselves  putting  our  new  home 
in  order.  It  was  a  blessed,  blessed  day,  that  day 
on  which  the  dedicatory  exercises  took  place  (Nov. 
22,  1904).  They  were  participated  in  by  an  im- 
mense gathering  of  representative  men  and  women, 
and  account  of  which  you  may,  if  you  so  desire, 
read  in  the  San  Jose  and  San  Francisco  dailies  of 
that  evening  and  succeeding  morning.  Amongst 
others  who  delivered  addresses  was  my  now  per- 
sonal friend,  Mrs.  Mary  Hayes-Chynoweth,  the  re- 
port of  whose  speech  it  gives  me  pleasure  to  quote: 

She  expressed  her  thankfulness  at  being  pres- 
ent and  seeing:  so  many  Interested  In  a  line  In 
which  she  had  been  working  over  fifty  years.  She 
emphasized  the  necessity  of  having:  the  spiritual 
life  of  God  In  the  heart  to  live  a  Chrlst-Uke  life. 
She  spoke  trenchantly  of  the  need  of  purity,  not 
only  on  the  part  of  young  girls,  but  young  men 
and  old  men,  too.  She  bespoke  the  help  of  all  for 
those  engaged   In  this  work. 

Young  men  need  much  attention,  too.  If  they 
had  more,  there  would  be  less  need  to  work  for 
women.  If  the  heart  is  pure,  no  temptation  out* 
side  can  have  the  power  to  overcome.  If  every 
man  were  In  that  condition,  there  would  be  no 
temptation  for  girls.  Let  all  work  together,  men 
and  women,  nor  one  think  or  claim  to  be  better 
than  the  otJMr,  etc. 


274  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

The  pastors  of  all  the  denominations  were  pres- 
ent, some  making  brief  addresses,  and  a  most  ex- 
cellent program  was  enjoyed  by  all. 

For  some  time  my  work,  with  the  exception  of 
taking  an  occasional  trip  after  some  dear  child,  lay 
in  the  immediate  suburban  towns,  or  in  San  Jose 
proper,  so  that  I  was  able  to  spend  Thanksgiving, 
Christmas,  and  New- Year  with  our  now  large 
family.  In  February,  1905,  I  again  started  out  on 
a  protracted  trip,  through  central  California,  mak- 
ing brief  stops  to  address  audiences  in  Mountain 
View,  Palo  Alto,  San  Mateo,  and,  before  going 
further.  Redwood  City.  There  was  no  trouble  now 
to  obtain  a  church  in  the  latter  town  in  which  to 
plead  the  cause  so  dear  to  my  heart.  The  only 
trouble  was  that  the  building  could  not  admit  the 
overflow  of  people.  Thence  I  went  to  San  Fran- 
cisco. There  I  was  warmly  received  by  dear  Sis- 
ter Kauffman,  whose  hospitality  I  accepted  whilst 
I  was  filling  church  engagements  and  visiting  once 
more  the  county  jail  No.  3.  Numberless  were  the 
questions  propounded  by  the  inmates.  Many  had 
gone,  but  alas !  many  more  had  filled  their  places. 
The  work  promised  to  be  endless. 

It  was  early  in  May  when  I  returned  to  San 
Jose.  No  sooner  had  I  arrived  than  the  chief  of 
police  telephoned  me  to  come  to  his  office  at  my 
earliest  convenience.     This  was  by  no  means  un- 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  275 

common.  Frequently  Chief  Carroll  had  some  one 
whom  he  preferred  should  have  the  benefits  of  Beth- 
Adriel  rather  than  be  sentenced  to  a  term  in  jail. 

I  hurried  to  town  and  was  soon  in  conference 
with  him  concerning  a  young  woman  that  had  ar- 
rived in  San  Jose  that  morning  with  a  youth,  who 
was  caught  in  the  act  of  trying  to  secure  lodging  for 
her  in  a  disreputable  house.  Evidently  it  was  her 
first  incarceration  behind  iron  bars.  When  we  ap- 
proached her  cell,  we  could  hear  her  screaming 
and  crying  with  both  fear  and  distress.  Upon  see- 
ing me,  she  ceased  temporarily.  I  put  my  arm 
about  her  in  tender  pity  and  tried  to  say  words  of 
comfort.  The  Chief  had  informed  me  that  she 
had  applied  to  the  health  officer  for  medicine  as 
soon  as  placed  in  a  cell,  her  physical  condition  be- 
ing by  no  means  good,  in  consequence  of  the  sin- 
ful life  she  had  been  living.  I  prevailed  upon  him 
to  have  her  committed  to  Beth-Adriel,  where  she 
was  taken  late  that  afternoon. 

At  the  time  we  had  a  new  matron,  of  whom  I 
had  heard  through  correspondence  with  the  board, 
but  had  only  just  met.  My  impression  of  her  was 
by  no  means  satisfactory,  nor  was  I  wrong  in  my 
estimate,  for  she  telephoned  to  my  lodgings  to  say 
that,  on  account  of  this  poor  girl's  physical  condi- 
tion, I  should  have  to  remove  her  immediately.  On 
receiving  this  word,   I  made  application  and  ob- 


276  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

tained  a  pass  from  one  of  the  supervisors  for  her 
admission  into  the  county  hospital,  and  then  went 
to  Beth-Adriel  to  convey  her  thither.  Poor,  poor 
child !  That  matron  had  barely  allowed  her  to 
sleep  under  the  roof,  and  at  daylight  had  ordered 
her  out  on  to  the  back  porch  and  there  had  given 
her  her  breakfast  in  discarded  dishes.  In  fact,  the 
matron  treated  her  as  though  she  had  leprosy  or 
smallpox.  By  the  grace  of  God  I  kept  silence, 
but  resolved  what  should  be  done  when  the  board 
convened  the  following  week. 

I  left  Martie  at  the  hospital,  only  to  receive 
word  before  the  day  was  over  that  I  had  made  an- 
other mistake,  that  they  did  not  take  cases  like 
hers.  "What  is  a  county  hospital  for.''"  I  in- 
quired of  the  one  who  was  talking  to  me  over  the 
telephone.  Answer:  "Mrs.  Roberts,  were  we  to 
take  in  those  kind  of  cases  [venereal]  there 
wouldn't  be  a  building  in  California  large  enough 
to  receive  them.  We're  sorry,  but  she  must  be  re- 
moved from  here."  However,  as  it  was  late,  they 
isolated  her  for  me  until  the  morning.  In  the 
meanwhile  I  again  conferred  with  the  chief  of 
police,  and  also  I  received  a  severe  reproof  from 
the  supervisor  for  not  informing  him  of  the  nature 
of  poor  Martie's  complaint. 

Upon  our  discovering  that  she  came  from  Oak- 
land, Alameda  County,  I  was  requested  to  remove 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  277 

her  early  the  following  morning  to  that  place.  Poor 
wronged  child !  She  was  perfectly  pliant  in  my 
hands.  I  felt  as  though  I  could  not  be  tender 
enough.     On  the  train  she  told  me  her  story. 

Her  father  and  another  man  were  hung  by  a 
vigilance  committee  in  northern  California  for 
highway  robbery  and  murder.  The  shock  and  hor- 
ror of  this  cost  her  mother  her  life.  Martie  was 
an  orphan  as  soon  as  she  came  into  the  world. 
Her  grandmother  cared  for  her  two  years,  and  then 
she  died.  On  her  death  the  baby  was  placed  in 
the  Salvation  Army  home  for  homeless  children  at 
Beulah.  At  the  age-limit  (fourteen)  she  was  hired 
out  as  domestic  for  a  lady  about  to  become  a 
mother,  who,  as  soon  as  able  again  to  resume  her 
household  duties,  discharged  the  girl.  Then  Mar- 
tie  began  to  drift.  No  one  really  cared  for  the  poor 
wronged  child.  For  about  a  year  she  procured  one 
temporary  situation  after  another  in  inferior  places, 
visited  cheap  vaudeville  shows  and  dances,  and 
made  the  acquaintance  of  undesirable  people, 
amongst  whom  was  the  young  man  now  awaiting 
trial  for  vagrancy  in  San  Jose. 

Upon  reaching  Oakland,  I  at  once  repaired  with 
my  charge  to  the  office  of  the  chief  of  police.  He 
referred  me  to  the  mayor,  who,  in  turn,  referred 
me  to  the  supervisors.  Not  knowing  any  of  the 
latter,  I  threw  myself  on  the  kind  mercies  of  tht^ 


278  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

chief,  who,  after  much  difficulty,  succeeded  in  lo- 
cating one;  and  late  in  the  afternoon  I  procured 
a  pass  for  Martie  into  a  certain  ward  of  the  county 
infirmary  of  Alameda  County. 

Rest  assured  I  did  my  utmost  in  the  short  while 
at  my  command  to  convey  the  Master's  message 
of  love  and  pardon  for  her  and  "whosoever  will" ; 
promised  to  write,  also  soon  to  visit  her;  and  then, 
my  heart  heavily  weighted,  bade  the  poor,  wronged 
girl  farewell.  It  was  indeed  and  in  truth  fare- 
well. I  never  again  laid  eyes  on  her,  for  she  dis- 
appeared within  two  days,  and  not  until  I  read  two 
years  ago  of  her  death  by  carbolic  acid,  did  I 
learn  the  ultimate  fate  of  this  another  victim  of 
pre-  and  post-natal  conditions. 

In  consequence  of  this  and  other  similar  cases 
that  were  being  refused  the  home,  I  realized  that 
we  must  have  a  sanitarium  on  our  grounds  as 
soon  as  the  bulk  of  the  debt  had  been  wiped  out. 

On  returning,  I  had  a  heated  discussion  with  our 
board,  only  succeeding  in  gaining  the  reputation  of 
being  rather  ill-tempered  and  hard  to  please.  But 
oh !  dear  reader,  I  was  not.  I  was  only  zealous,  so 
zealous  for  the  cause.  God  knows.  Nevertheless, 
I  refused  to  work  until  they  promised  to  be  on  the 
lookout  for  a  more  efficient  matron;  consequently, 
the  next  time  I  met  with  them,  an  elderly  couple, 
husband  and  wife,  were  in  charge.     I  perceived. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  279 

however,  that  the  work  was  drifting  from  its  origi- 
nal purposes  and  fast  becoming  that  for  which  it 
was  not  incorporated — a  maternity  home.  This 
tendency  was  hardly  perceptible  at  first,  but  ere- 
long I  discovered  to  my  keen  sorrow  that  appar- 
ently much  of  my  labor  had  been  in  vain.  What 
to  do  or  what  course  to  take  I  did  not  know.  I 
prayed  earnestly  and  continued  to  work,  though 
with  less  fervor  than  at  the  first.  How  could  I? 
During  my  absence  such  new  rules  and  regulations 
were  being  adopted  as  made  it  no  easy  matter  for 
any  needy  girl  to  become  an  inmate  of  Beth- 
Adriel. 

Feeling,  after  constant  prayer,  that  my  loving 
Lord  would  have  me  exercise  patience  and  for- 
bearance until  the  annual  board  meeting  in  Janu- 
ary (it  was  now  November),  I  refrained  from 
further  interference  or  discussion,  and  again  put 
a  distance  between  them  and  me,  though  I  kept 
in  constant  communication  with  several  of  the  fam- 
ily. 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  WITH  THE  OUTCAST.  281 

CHAPTER   XXX. 
THE  JUVENILE  COURT  COMMISSION — HENRY. 

Whilst  I  was  in  otie  of  the  Coast  towns,  the 
mail  one  day  brought  me  the  following  notifica- 
tion, which,  rest  assured,  was  at  the  time  as  the 
"balm  of  Gilead,"  leading  me  to  believe  that  God, 
who  never  makes  any  mistakes,  was  going  to  take 
me  into  more  definite  work  for  the  unfortunate 
children. 

Office  of  County  Clerk, 
Santa  Clara  County,  California. 
San  Jose,  Dec.  13,  1905. 
Mrs.  Florence  Roberts, 

San  Jose,  Cal. 
Dear  Madam: 

Tou  will  please  take  notice  that  pursuant  to 
an  order  made  this  13th  day  of  December,  1S'05, 
by  the  Honorable  M.  H.  Hyland,  Judge  of  the 
Superior  Court,  in  and  for  the  county  of  Santa 
Clara,  State  of  California,  in  Dep't  2  thereof  and 
duly  entered  into  the  minutes  of  said  Court,  that 
you  have  been  appointed  a  member  of  the  Proba- 
tion Committee  of  the  Juvenile  Court,  and  you  are 
hereby  directed  to  appear  in  said  Court  on  Mon- 
day, December  18,  at  10  o'clock,  A.  M. 
Very  respectfully, 
Henry  A.   Pflster,  Clerk. 

By  J.  C.  Kennedy,  Deputy. 

This  changed  the  nature  of  my  plans,  though  at 
first  not  interfering  to  any  great  extent  with  the 
work  already  in  hand. 

As  never  before  I  began  to  get  insight  concern- 


282  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

ing  the  disadvantages  under  which  many  a  wronged 
child  was,  and  is  laboring,  and  oh!  how  I  thank 
and  bless  God  that  there  is  now  protection  and 
help  for  many  through  the  officers  and  the  instru- 
mentality of  the  Juvenile  Courts.  This  subject, 
however,  will  furnish  material  for  another  book; 
therefore  it  will  be  but  lightly  touched  upon  at 
this  time,  for  I  want  to  have  you  again  visit  with 
me  San  Quentin  and  on  this  occasion  become  ac- 
quainted with  Henry.  I  first  heard  of  him  through 
Captain  Randolph,  captain  of  the  yard,  and  next 
through  Captain  Sullivan;  then  I  obtained  per- 
mission from  Captain  Ellis  to  interview  this  young 
man. 

He  was  sentenced  from  — • —  County  to  serve 
twenty-five  years  for  homicide.  Over  seven  years 
had  now  expired,  and  seven,  I  assure  you,  seems 
like  twenty-seven,  even  more,  to  every  one  of  these 
poor  prisoners.  He  was  a  very  bright  young  man, 
aged  about  twenty-five  years,  and  he  had  the  record 
of  never  having  yet  lost  a  single  credit  since  his 
incarceration.  I  listened  with  intense  interest 
whilst  he  told  me  this: 

"I  don't  suppose  I  differed  much  from  other 
boys  in  my  school  days,  was  just  as  full  of  fun 
and  mischief  as  any  of  them,  but  there  was  no 
real  harm  in  me  that  I  knew  of.  My  father  is 
a  miner,  a  prospector,  always  on  the  lookout  for. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  288 

and  locating,  claims.  Mother  was  always  a  hard- 
working little  woman,  and  raised  a  large  family.  We 
had  a  neighbor  who  didn't  like  us,  neither  did  he 
like  my  dog,  which,  just  as  any  dog  will,  intruded 
on  his  premises  once  too  often ;  so  he  shot  and 
killed  him,  remarking  with  an  oath  as  he  did  so, 
that  there'd  be  more  than  one  dead  dog  if  we 
didn't  make  ourselves  scarce — anyhow,  words  to 
that  effect.  The  killing  of  my  pet  made  me  very 
mad.  I  am,  unfortunately,  very  quick  tem- 
pered, though  I  soon  cooled  down.  I  felt  as 
thought  I  could  have  killed  him  then  and  there  for 
his  dirty  meanness,  but  pretty  soon  father  and 
mother  succeeded  in  quieting  me. 

"We  had  no  more  trouble  or  communication  with 
these  neighbors  for  some  time;  then  one  day,  when 
I  was  playing  ball  with  some  of  the  neighbor  boys 
with  some  potatoes,  he  happened  to  pass  and  one 
of  the  potatoes  struck  him.  It  didn't  hurt  him  a 
bit,  but  he  ripped  out  an  awful  oath  at  me,  and 
called  me  and  my  mother  by  a  name  that  no 
man  with  a  spark  of  spunk  in  him  would  stand 
for  a  minute.  He  threatened  me  at  the  same  time. 
I  hurried  home,  changed  my  clothes,  and  told  my 
father  I  was  going  over  to  the  county  seat  (near 
by)  to  have  him  bound  over  to  keep  the  peace,  as 
I  was  afraid  he  would  carry  out  his  threat.  Be- 
fore  I  left  the  house   I  took  down   father's  gun. 


284  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

'Henry,  what  are  you  doing?  You  put  that  gun 
right  back  where  you  got  it,'  he  said.  'I'll  not 
do  it,'  I  replied.  'He's  threatened  to  kill  me. 
I'll  need  it  for  protection,'  and  on  I  walked,  too 
quickly  for  him  to  overtake  me. 

"As  I  was  passing  — • — 's  warehouse  on  the 
county  road,  this  neighbor  walked  into  it  out  of 
his  yard,  and  just  as  I  came  opposite  the  door  he 
stuck  his  head  out  and  put  his  hand  into  his  hip 
pocket.  Before  he  got  a  chance  to  shoot,  I  had 
shot  him  through  the  fleshy  part  of  his  right  hip. 
He  lived  several  days.  I  feel  sure  he  needn't 
have  died,  if  given  proper  care. 

"I  laid  a  long  time  in  jail  before  the  trial.  My 
people  were  too  poor  to  get  me  all  the  defense  I 
needed.  Unfortunately,  my  lawyer,  though  a  bril- 
liant man,  was  a  drunkard.  Father  impoverished 
the  whole  family  to  raise  money  to  clear  me,  all 
to  no  effect.  I  am  here  for  twenty-five  years,  when 
I  ought  to  be  out  trying  to  help  make  them  com- 
fortable in  their  old  age.  I  hear  they  are  very, 
very  poor.     Oh,  how  I  wish  I  could  help  them! 

He  told  me  where  they  lived,  and  I  resolved, 
God  willing,  to  take  a  trip,  in  the  interests  of 
Beth-Adriel,  in  that  direction,  and  told  him  I 
would  try  to  see  them,  though  making  no  promises 
toward  aiding  him  in  gaining  his  freedom,  for  as 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  285 

yet  I  had  only  his  word  as  to  the  truth  of  this 
9(;ory. 

It  was  a  whole  day's  journey,  and,  being  very 
tired  on  reaching  my  destination,  I  did  not  look 
them  up  until  morning.  I  can  yet  see  that  very 
clean,  poverty-stricken  room.  I  sat  on  the  only 
chair  it  contained,  the  little  mother  sat  on  the 
bed,  the  father  on  an  old  trunk.  The  father  hadn't 
"struck  it  rich"  yet.  Prospectors  are  always  hope- 
ful, sometimes  realizing  their  hopes,  but  not  often. 
The  mother,  whenever  able,  worked  in  the  fruit. 
In  some  way  they  managed  to  eke  out  a  bare  but 
honest  living.  They  could  not  have  been  much 
poorer. 

We  discussed  Henry's  case  pro  and  con.  Evi- 
dently he  had  not  overdrawn  the  truth.  Before 
the  -rlay  was  over  we  were  in  consultation 
with'  a  friendly  disposed  attorney,  who  drew  up 
petition  papers.  Before  these  were  out  of  the 
printer's  hands,  I  had  held  conferences  with  sev- 
eral people  and  clergymen,  and  had  also  made 
engagements  in  the  interest  of  Beth-Adriel.  The 
Lord  was  touching  hearts  and  money  was  being 
added  to  its  treasury.  Soon  I  was  doing  double 
duty,  aided  by  Henry's  father.  He  went  on  his 
bicycle  from  place  to  place  in  the  county  where 
this  homicide  had  been  committed,  whilst  I  took 
the  stage  or  the  train  as  the  case  might  require, 


286  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

speaking  in  his  behalf  as  well  as  securing  funds 
for  the  home.  Finally  we  reached  the  county 
seat.  There  I  learned  from  many — leven  officials — 
that  Henry's  sentence  was  unjust;  but,  owing  to 
their  political  positions,  I  could  obtain  very  few 
of  their  signatures.  The  judge  who  had  sen- 
tenced Henry  told  me  that  he  could  not  sign,  he 
being  then  the  attorney  for  the  widow  of  the  dead 
man. 

A  very  severe  cold,  threatening  me  with  pneu- 
monia caused  me  to  leave  hurriedly  for  home,  where 
for  several  days  I  was  well-nigh  prostrate.  There 
were  many  earnest  prayers  for  my  speedy  recov- 
ery. These  the  dear  Lord  heard  and  answered,  so 
that  before  long  the  work  so  suddenly  laid  down 
was,  through  his  loving  kindness  and  grace,  re- 
sumed. 

Henry's  father  sent  by  express  the  package  of 
signatures  he  had  procured,  and  I  felt  the  wit- 
ness of  the  Spirit  that  we  now  had  sufficient.  The 
next  move,  as  I  thought,  was  to  present  them  at 
Sacramento  to  the  Governor.  He  received  me  most 
kindly,  talked  at  length  on  rescue  work,  Henry's 
case  and  other  cases,  etc.,  but  informed  me  that 
he  would  have  no  jurisdiction  to  act  until  the 
matter  had  been  duly  presented  after  receiving  the 
written  approval  of  the  board  of  prison  directors. 
At  their  next  monthly  meeting  I  was  present;  but. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  287 

owing  to  stress  of  other  matters,  Henry's  case 
could  not  at  this  time  command  their  attention, 
nor  for  three  successive  meetings.  Then  occurred 
an  adjournment  until  July.  Henry  wrote  that  he 
could  not  conscientiously  ask  me  to  come  again, 
but  the  still,  small  voice  bade  me  try  once  more. 
Oh,  praise  the  dear  Lord  for  answering  many 
prayers  in  his  behalf!  Henry  was  granted  his 
parole.  The  news  was  telephoned  to  me  early  in 
the  morning.  I  hurried  down  to  Captain  Ellis' 
office  to  offer  Henry  my  congratulations,  but,  above 
all,  to  direct  his  mind  toward  the  Author  of  his 
freedom.  What  a  blessed  opportunity  to  honor 
the  Master!  and  he  promised  to  try  to  serve  him 
thereafter. 

Then  he  whispered  something  to  the  Captain, 
who  replied,  "Certainly,  you  have  my  permission." 
Excusing  himself,  he  hurried  into  the  inner  yard. 
Presently  he  returned  with  an  oblong  box.  Hand- 
ing it  to  me,  he  said:  "Mother  Roberts,  I  have 
long  observed  that  your  little  autoharp  was  wear- 
ing out.  This  one,  my  companion  in  my  lonely 
hours,  must  now  take  its  place.  I  know  the  use 
you  will  make  of  it.  I  wish,  how  I  wish,  you 
might  be  able  to  appreciate  with  what  pleasure  I 
make  this  slight  token  of  my  eternal  gratitude!" 

I  had  not  dreamed  of  my  prayer  for  a  new  in- 
strument being  answered  in  this  manner,   I  hav- 


388  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

ing  never  learned  that  Henry  was  musical  or  pos- 
sessed any  such  thing.  It  was  a  much  finer  one 
than  mine.  Had  I  been  presented  with  a  gold 
mine,  I  could  not  have  felt  better  pleased.  From 
that  day  to  this  autoharp,  No.  2,  and  I  have  been 
inseparable. 

But  I  must  proceed.  Before  taking  up  other 
matters,  I  will  add  this:  Henry  made  good  for  two 
years,  received  pardon  from  Governor  Gillett,  mar- 
ried his  faithful  little  sweetheart,  and  named  his 
first  little  daughter  after  me.  A  few  days  ago 
I  received  a  letter  telling  of  the  birth  of  another 
little  daughter.  He  took  up  a  claim,  and  he  is 
now  farming  his  own  homestead. 

Many  were,  and  no  doubt  still  are,  his  trials  and 
temptations.  Not  always  was  there  victory,  but 
I  am  sure  as  he  reads  this  that  the  tears  will  come. 
He  will  probably  retire  to  some  quiet  spot,  fall 
on  his  knees  in  gratitude  to  God,  who  pardons  our 
sins  even  though  they  be  "red  like  crimson,"  and  then 
ask  him  to  guide  him  in  the  way  he  should  go  and 
to  help  him  to  bring  up  his  dear  little  family  in 
the  fear  and  admonition  of  the  Lord.  May  God 
forever  bless  Henry,  his  faithful  companion,  and 
his  dear  children,  is  my  earnest  prayer. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  289 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE    ANNUAL    BOARD    MEETING    —    DOLLIE'8 
STORY. 

I  believe  the  spirit  of  prayer  rested  mightily 
on  every  one  of  us  present  at  that  very  important 
business  meeting,  yet  I  doubt  if  any  member  real- 
ized its  vital  importance  more  than  I  myself.  Like 
David  of  old,  I  inquired  of  the  Lord  as  to  whether 
to  continue  with  them  or  start  anew?  The  token 
asked  was  a  unanimous  reelection  to  the  office  he 
had  called  me  to  fill.  It  was  by  ballot,  and  was 
vmanimous.  I  was  satisfied,  and  for  another  year 
cheerfully  continued  to  fill  the  office  of  field  sec- 
retary and  evangelist. 

I  now  visited  Sonoma,  Mendocino,  and  other 
counties  in  that  locality.  A  kindly  reception 
awaited  me  everywhere,  and  no  wonder — I  peti- 
tioned the  Lord  to  go  before  me.  He  answers  such 
a  petition  out  of  Isa.  45 :  2 :  "I  will  go  before  thee, 
and  make  the  crooked  places  straight:  I  will 
break  in  pieces  the  gates  of  brass,  and  cut  in  sun- 
der the  bars  of  iron." 

One  day  whilst  I  was  making  calls  amongst  the 
unfortunate,  I  was  met  at  a  certain  door  by  a  neat, 
intelligent-looking  young  woman,  attired  as  though 
for  a  journey.  A  glance  through  the  open  door- 
way revealed  the  presence  of  three  others;  they, 


290  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

however,  were  in  house  dress  peculiar  to  their 
mode  of  existence.  One  of  these  spoke,  "O  Dol- 
lie,  invite  the  lady  in.  It's  going  to  be  lonesome 
without  you."  She,  none  too  graciously,  extended 
the  invitation.  If  I  had  any  pride  left,  I  stifled 
it  for  the  sake  of  these  poor  lost  souls,  sitting 
around  in  their  tawdry  finery,  smoking  cigarettes. 
My  heart  went  out  in  tender  pity  for  them  as  I 
attempted  to  introduce  our  loving  Savior. 

"Hold  on,"  said  DoUie,  at  the  same  time  look- 
ing at  a  beautiful  gold  watch  on  her  breast,  "I 
think  I  will  have  time  before  the  train  comes 
[the  depot  was  but  a  block  away]  to  tell  you  my 
story.  .  .  . 

"When  I  was  fourteen  years  old,  I  had  the  mis- 
fortune to  lose  my  dear  mother,  who  died  in  child- 
birth. Father  was  a  very  hard-working  man,  a 
mechanic.  He  broke  up  housekeeping  for  two  rea- 
sons: First,  because  mother  had  been  very  indul- 
gent, so  that  I  didn't  know  the  first  thing  about 
domestic  duties,  so  wouldn't  have  been  able  to  even 
get  him  a  decent  breakfast.  Next,  because  every- 
thing spoke  to  him  of  mother,  whom  he  fairly 
idolized.  I  used  to  see  him  evenings  when  he  came 
home  from  work  to  the  place  where  we  boarded. 
Seldom  in  the  mornings.  Guess  I  was  too  lazy  to 
get  up  in  time  for  anything  but  a  hasty  breakfast, 
then  hurry  off  to  school. 


"everybody    helped    grease    the    hill    I    WAS    SLIDING    DOWN. 
I    SOON    REACHED    THE    BOTTOM."  291 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  291 

"We  used  to  have  Friday  evening  dances  in  our 
neighborhood,  which  I  attended  with  my  class- 
mates. My  but  I  loved  to  dance!  It  got  so  that 
P'riday  evening  wasn't  enough,  so  many  a  time 
found  me  with  some  of  them  at  a  hall  down-town 
enjoying  the  public  dance.  The  school-dance  was 
always  private.  It  didn't  take  long  for  some  one 
to  turn  my  silly  head  and  make  me  believe  he 
was  dead  in  love  with  me.  What  did  a  little 
fifteen-year-old  fool  like  me  know,  with  no  mother 
to  teach  her,  and  no  woman  to  take  a  real  inter- 
est.'' That  wretch  could  fill  me  with,  and  make  me 
believe,  the  biggest  lies  you  ever  imagined,  and  I 
drank  it  all  in  as  though  it  were  gospel  truth.  To 
this  day  I  somtimes  wonder  if  all  men  are 
liars. 

"I'm  not  going  to  mince  matters.  I  fell;  and 
pretty  soon  everybody  was  helping  to  grease  the 
hill  I  mas  sliding  down.  In  consequence,  I  soon 
reached  the  bottom. 

"Some  one  told  father;  but  I  denied  every- 
thing, yet  I  was  so  afraid  he  would  make  the  state- 
ments be  proven,  that  in  my  fright  I  ran  away, 
and  I  have  never  seen  him  since.  He's  dead  now. 
Poor  father!  I  expect  that,  with  his  other  sor- 
rows, this  trouble  finished  him. 

"Two  years  later  found  me  in  just  such  a  place 
as   you    have   discovered    me   today.      One    after- 


292  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

noon,  a  sweet-faced  Salvation  Army  lassie  called. 
She  talked  as  only  you  people  can  talk.  I  was 
but  seventeen,  still  tender-hearted  (wish  I  was 
yet)  ;  so  it  was  not  difficult  to  yield  to  her  earnest 
persuasions  to  kneel  beside  her  while  she  prayed. 
There  was  another  girl  in  the  room  at  the  time, 
but  she  had  a  caller,  so  got  up  and  went  out.  I 
learnt  my  first  prayer  from  that  Salvation  Army 
girl.  It  was  'Our  Father.'  I  used  to  see  it 
framed  on  a  wall  in  a  house  where  my  mother  vis- 
ited, but  never  did  I  understand  it  till  that  day. 
Then  she  asked  me  to  talk  to  God  in  my  own  way. 
I  felt  sorry  for  what  I'd  done,  and  the  life  I  was 
leading,  and  said  so;  so  when  she  explained  how 
God  would  forgive  me,  I  believed  her  and  told  her 
I'd  quit  if  she'd  take  me  away,  and  she  did.  I 
left  with  her  about  dusk.  She  took  me  to  her  lodg- 
ings and  for  several  days  I  shared  her  bed  and 
board,  until  she  got  me  a  situation  to  do  light 
housework  at  fifteen  dollars  a  month.  Light  in- 
deed !  It  was  the  heaviest,  washing  included ; 
but  I  did  as  she  suggested — prayed  to  God  to  help 
me  as  I  worked,  and  he  did.  They  were  Jewish 
people  and  so  did  their  own  cooking;  otherwise 
I  couldn't  have  kept  my  job. 

"Never  shall  I  forget  the  joy  of  receiving  my 
first  month's  wages.  As  I  looked  at  that  little 
sum  in  my  calloused  hand,  I  said,  'DoUie,  it's  the 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  293 

first  honest  money  you  ever  earned ;  doesn't  it  make 
you  feel  good  ?' 

"Before  long  my  Salvation  Army  friend  was 
called  away  to  another  field  of  labor.  I  prom- 
ised to  write  to  her,  and  to  this  day  I  am  sorry 
that  through  my  own  carelessness  I  lost  track  of 
her.  But  I  always  did  hate  to  write  letters,  so 
it's  all  my  own  fault. 

"A  girl  told  me  of  a  nice  place  out  near  Golden 
Gate  Park;  only  two  in  family,  and  twenty-five 
dollars  a  month.  I  called  on  the  lady  and  she 
hired  me.  My  but  she  had  a  dainty  flat!  One 
peculiarity  I  couldn't  help  noticing.  She  was  al- 
ways afraid  some  one  was  deceiving  or  going  to 
deceive  her,  and  would  often  make  the  remark, 
'No  one  ever  gets  the  second  chance  with  me,  no 
indeed.'  And  I  used  to  say  to  mself,  '/  wonder  what 
she  would  do  if  she  found  out  who  Dollie  was?* 
She  was  a  Christian.  No,  I'll  take  that  back.  She 
called  herself  one,  and  was  the  secretary  of  the 
ladies'  aid  of  her  church.  Sometimes  we  had  teas 
for  them,  and  then  she  would  take  them  all  over 
the  house  and  brag  on  my  work  and  me.  I  knew 
how  to  cook  pretty  well  by  this  time.  She  taught 
me.  There  was  nothing  I  did  not  do  to  try  and 
please  her. 

"One  day  I  heard  the  hall  door  bang.  Some 
one  was  coming  up-stairs  in  a  great  hurry.     Next 


294  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

she  threw  open  the  kitchen  door,  and  I  shall  never 
forget  the  ugly  face  of  her  as  she  said,  while  I  ran 
in  my  bedroom  with  fright  and  shut  the  door, 
'DoUie !  I  want  you  to  pack  right  up  and  leave 
this  house,  you  — • —  j!  How  dare  you  im- 
pose yourself  on  me?'  Oh!  I  ran  and  groveled 
at  her  feet;  I  begged;  I  cried;  I  besought  her  not 
to  turn  me  away.  I  told  her  that  I  had  repented 
and  that  God  had  forgiven  my  sins  and  that  if  she 
was  a  Christian  she'd  help  me.  That  only  seemed 
to  make  her  madder  than  ever.  'Pack  up  your 
things  and  get  out.  Here's  your  money.  I  won't 
put  up  with  deceit  from  any  one.' 

"I  went  into  my  room,  and  in  my  rage  and 
despair  tore  my  clothes  oflF  the  hooks,  emptied  the 
bureau  drawers,  jammed  everything  any  which 
way  into  my  trunk,  and  in  my  anger  went  out, 
called  the  nearest  express  man,  ordered  my  bag- 
gage to  my  old  address,  where  the  Salvation  Army 
lassie  first  found  me,  told  all  the  girls  down  the 
row  what  the  Christians  were  like,  and  then 
plunged  deeper  than  ever  into  a  life  of  sin.  My 
heart,  once  so  tender,  is  hardened  forever.  Save 
your  tears  for  some  one  who  is  worthy.  You  can 
never  touch  me.  I  wish  to  God  you  could.  I  must 
go;  but  you're  welcome  to  remain  and  talk  to  the 
others,  if  you  think  it  will  do  any  good.  Good-by, 
lady.     Good-by,  girls.      I'll  be  back  in  less  than 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  295 

a  week" — «nd  she  was  gone ;  but  oh !  could  I,  could 
these  girls,  ever  get  over  this  recital  and  its  im- 
pression. 

As  soon  as  I  could  find  my  voice,  I  begged,  im- 
plored them,  not  to  let  that  story  further  influ- 
ence them  on  the  downward  course.  I  pictured 
the  judgment-day  with  that  woman  who  turned 
Dollie  away  being  interrogated  by  the  King  of 
kings,  and  the  terrible  doom  awaiting  all  who  did 
not  repent  and  forsake  sin;  but,  apparently  mak- 
ing no  impression,  I  soon  left,  unable  to  proceed 
further  with  the  work  that  day  because  of  the 
great  burden  with  which  this  poor  girl's  story  had 
weighted  me. 

I  lay  on  my  bed  shortly  afterwards,  meditating 
upon  the  probable  results  had  this  mistress  been 
loyal  to  her  Lord,  whom  she  professed  to  love  and 
follow.     I  tried  to  picture  her  as  saying: 

"Dollie,  a  distressing  story  has  reached  me.  It 
concerns  your  former  life,  but  I  know  you  must 
have  repented,  or  you  would  not  be  doing  hard, 
honest  work  for  your  living.  Surely  there  are 
many  you  know  and  would  like  to  help  lead  bet- 
ter lives.  It  is  in  my  heart  to  assist  them,  Dol- 
lie. Let  us  together  look  some  of  them  up.  I 
realize  that  few,  comparatively  speaking,  attempt 
this  line  of  work.  They  think  it  is  too  humiliating, 
degrading,  demoralizing,  but  it  is  what  our  Sav- 


296  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

ior  did  whilst  on  eg,rth,  and  I  have  vowed  to  fol- 
low him." 

What  think  you,  dear  reader,  would  have  been 
the  outcome?  How  many  trophies  for  the  Savior's 
crown  would  have  been  hers?  How  many  out- 
casts would  have  been  turned  from  the  error  of 
their  ways,  and,  having  found  their  Redeemer, 
would  have  instructed  their  former  companions 
in  sin?  It  may  never  be  revealed  how  many 
souls  were  lost  through  this  professed  Christian's 
shameful  unfaithfulness. 

Christ,  when  teaching  occasion  to  avoid  of- 
fense, uttered  these  words:  "It  is  impossible  but 
that  offenses  will  come:  but  woe  unto  him  through 
whom  they  come.  It  were  better  for  him  that  a 
millstone  were  hanged  about  his  neck,  and  he 
cast  into  the  sea,  than  that  he  should  offend  one 
of  these  little  ones."    Luke  17:  1,  2. 

Have  you,  my  reader,  helped  "grease  the  hill" 
that  "one  of  these  little  ones"  was  sliding  down, 
so  that  she  soon  reached  the  bottom?  or  are  you 
helping  and  cheering  them  on  the  upward  way  un- 
til they  reach  the  goal?     May  God  help  and  bless. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  897 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

LOST    SHEEP — THE     EX-PRISONER'S     HOME — 
HOSPITAL    SCENES. 

Who  does  not  love  that  beautiful,  most  pathetic 
song  entitled  "The  Ninety  and  Nine".''  but  how 
many  have  literally  helped  to  emulate  the  Great 
Shepherd's  example?  Methinks  I  hear  now,  as  I 
often  have  heard,  great  throngs  singing: 

It  may  not  be  on  the  mountain  height 

Or  over   the   stormy   sea; 
It  may  not  be  at  the  battle  front, 

My  Lord  will  have  need  of  me; 
But  If  by  a  still,  small  voice  he  calls 

To  paths  that  I  do  not  know, 
I'll  answer,  dear  Lord,  with  my  hand  in  thine, 

"I'll  go  where  you  want  me  to  go." 

Our  Lord  takes  every  one  of  us  at  our  word, 
whether  we  are  singing  it,  praying  it,  or  testify- 
ing to  it.  He  does,  indeed.  He  takes  us  at  our 
word.  How  many  of  us  make  excuses?  Because 
of  this,  how  many  souls  are  going  to  be  lost  ?  Oh ! 
the  pity  of  it,  the  everlasting  pity  of  it!  .  .  . 
In  my  possession  are  several  photos.  Most  of 
them  have  been  handed  to  me  by  the  weeping 
mothers  of  lost,  stray  lambs;  some  have  come 
through  the  mail;  all  contain  the  one  cry:  "Dear 
Mother  Roberts,  .  .  .  Won't  you  please  try  to  find 
my  poor  little  girl?     She  may  be  in  prison,  or  in 


298  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

the  slums,  or  perhaps  sick  and  dying  in  some  hos- 
pital." And  then  follows  a  minute  description  of 
every  feature,  height,  weight,  peculiarities  of  char- 
acter, etc.  Many  times  the  parents  admit  their  own 
weak  traits  and  failures.  Poor,  poor  mothers !  poor 
fathers !  Not  very  often  do  we  find  them  for  you, 
sometimes  where  we  would  rather  not;  but  you 
said  that,  no  matter  what  their  condition,  I  should 
tell  them  that  you  still  loved  them  and  that  you 
would  gladly  welcome  them  home.  We've  found 
them  sometimes  when  too  far  gone  ever  to  come 
back  to  their  earthly  home,  and  but  just  barely 
in  time  to  be  rescued  from  eternal  ruin. 

Not  always  is  the  wanderer  a  girl,  either.  Some- 
times a  broken-hearted  parent  is  looking  for  a 
lost  boy,  and  solicits  our  help.  I've  met  a  few  of 
them  in  the  penitentiary,  who  have  all  but  sworn 
me  to  secrecy. 

"I'll  be  out  soon,"  they've  said.  "No  need  to 
grieve  the  old  folks  at  home  by  letting  them  know 
I've  been  in  trouble." 

"But,  my  boy,"  I've  replied,  "how  are  you  go- 
ing to  account  for  your  long  absence  and  explain 
where  you  have  been?" 

"I'll  fix  it  some  way.  Say  I've  been  traveling 
or  off  in  the  mines.  Anyhow,  I'll  fix  it  so  they 
shan't  find  out." 

"But  don't  you  know,  dear  boy,  you  are  going 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  299 

to  live  in  constant  dread  if  you  do  that?  The 
Bible  says,  'Be  sure  your  sins  will  find  you  out,' 
and  also  that  'nothing  that  maketh  a  lie  shall  en- 
ter the  kingdom  of  heaven/  I  can  not  write  a 
lie  to  your  parents,  and  they've  written  to  me, 
asking  me  to  try  to  find  you.  Besides,  you'll  need 
money  to  take  you  home.  It  is  not  so  easy  as 
you  think  to  step  out  of  here  and  obtain  imme- 
diate employment.  Even  if  you  do,  some  one 
will  be  constantly  crossing  your  path  and  demand- 
ing you  to  pay  him  'hush  money'  to  keep  his  mouth 
shut." 

Then  I  have  recommended  them  to  the  care  of 
Mr.  Charles  Montgomery,  president  of  the  board 
of  prison  commissioners,  who,  through  great  self- 
denial,  toil,  and  energy,  succeeded  in  establishing, 
little  more  than  two  years  ago,  a  beautiful  home 
and  mission  for  discharged  prisoners.  It  is  lo- 
cated in  San  Francisco.  To  it  they  may  go  and  be 
well  provided  for  until  employment  is  procured 
for  them.  Truly  this  is  a  most  blessed  work  for 
the  Master.  This  home  is  the  outcome  of  a  plan 
long  cherished  by  Brother  Montgomery,  who  for 
nearly  fifty  years  has  labored  for  the  reformation 
and  welfare  of  convicts  and  ex-convicts.  It  is 
now  situated  at  110  Silver  Street,  near  Third 
Street,  and  is  well  worth  a  visit  from  those  who 
have  the  interest  of  these  men  at  heart.     It  was 


800  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

opened  June  9,  1909,  and  it  has  been  doing  an 
immense  amount  of  good,  helping  many  a  dis- 
charged prisoner  to  be  once  more  a  desirable  citi- 
zen and  a  man  of  honor.     I  would  also  add  that 

it  is  a  work  of  faith. 

********** 

Will  you  come  with  me  to  one  of  our  county 
hospitals  this  afternoon.'' 

Soon  we  are  kindly  greeted  by  the  matron,  and 
almost  the  next  words  she  utters  after  welcom- 
ing us  are:  "I'm  especially  glad  to  see  you  to- 
day. Mother  Roberts,  because  in  Ward  X  a  girl 
who  is  dying  has  been  asking  if  I  knew  where 
you  were.  You're  none  too  soon.  She  can't  last 
much  longer,  poor  thing!"  and  she  leads  us  to  the 
bedside   of   the   dying   girl.      I    recognize   her   as 

Ruby  ,   with  whom   I   have  more  than   once 

earnestly  pleaded  to  forsake  the  wretched  life  she 
was  living,  warning  her  of  the  ultimate  results  of 
such  a  course.  How  changed  she  is  as  she  lies 
there  scarcely  breathing!  She  opens  her  dying 
eyes  at  the  sound  of  our  footsteps.  "Ruby  dear, 
do  you  know  me?"  A  barely  perceptible  nod.  "I'm 
so  glad  Jesus  sent  us  to  you  today,  dear  child. 
Won't  you  take  him  for  your  Savior  right  now?" 
In  as  few  words  as  possible  she  is  told  of  the  dy- 
ing thief  on  the  cross.  As  she  can  not  speak,  we 
ask  her  to  pray  with  her  mind,  whilst  we  kneel 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  801 

with  her  hand  in  ours,  calling  on  Jesus  for  mercy, 
for  pardon  in  this  the  "eleventh  hour."  The  tears 
which  she  is  too  weak  to  wipe  away  are  wetting  her 
pillow,  but  we  observe  a  look  of  peace  stealing 
over  her  countenance.  Soon  we  leave,  believing 
that  some  day  we  shall  meet  her  among  that  great 
throng  of  the  blood-washed. 

Following  a  mothers'  meeting  one  day  in  a 
Northern  town  a  care-worn-looking  woman  invited 
me  home  with  her.  Here  she  related  another  heart- 
rending story  of  a  lost  girl,  an  only  child,  for 
whom  she  had  toiled  day  and  night  at  the  wash- 
tub,  so  as  to  send  her  to  school  dressed  as  finely 
as  the  other  girls.  "I  have  had  to  work  very 
hard  as  long  as  I  can  remember,"  the  poor  mother 
said,  "and  when  I  married,  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  if  I  ever  had  a  daughter  I  would  not  teach 
her  domestic  duties,  for  fear  she  also  would  have 
to  be  a  drudge  all  of  her  life."  So  she  raised  a 
lady  (.'').  The  girl  grew  to  be  very  independent 
and  disrespectful  to  her  breadwinner,  her  mother, 
who  was  a  deserted  wife.  At  the  age  of  sixteen 
Elsie,  without  even  a  note  of  farewell,  left  her 
comfortable  little  home  and  heart-broken  mother, 
never  to  return.  She  had  intimated  her  going, 
but  the  mother  had  attached  no  importance  to 
these  remarks,  but  she  recalled  them  after  her 
daughter's  departure.     Furthermore,  Elsie  carried 


802  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

• 

away  nearly  every  dollar  of  her  mother's  meager, 
hard-earned  savings. 

After  a  long  look  at  a  photograph  I  perceived 
that,  because  of  a  peculiar  mark  on  the  cheek,  not 
removed  by  the  retoucher,  perhaps  overlooked,  I 
could  readily  recognize  Elsie.  Therefore,  when 
visiting  the  slums,  jails,  and  hospitals  I  kept 
a  lookout  for  her  as  well  as  for  others,  and  also 
notified  some  coworkers. 

One  day  whilst  visiting  the  old  city  and  county 
hospital  (where  Mary's  baby  was  born),  I  passed 
a  cot  where  lay  an  apparently  old  woman;  she 
looked  to  be  fifty  and  appeared  to  be  in  the  last 
stages  of  some  dreadful  form  of  tuberculosis.  That 
identical  mark  was  on  her  cheek,  but  surely  this 
could  not  be  twenty-three-year-old  Elsie.  Surely 
not.  So  I  passed  on  to  the  next  cot.  The  im- 
pression to  return  to  the  former  one  was  so  strong 
that  it  was  acted  upon.  Stepping  over  to  her,  I 
softly  said,  "Don't  be  frightened,  dear,  but  is  your 
name  Elsie?"  The  next  moment  I  was  quickly 
calling  the  nurse,  for  I  feared  the  shock  had  killed 
the  woman.  The  nurse  came  and  administered 
some  restorative  and  then  advised  me  not  to  ex- 
cite the  patient  further,  for  she  was  dying;  but 
the  girl  had  sufficiently  recovered  to  be  able  to  ask 
questions. 

"Who  told  you?"  she  whispered. 


POOR  flsie! 


302 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  SOS 

"It  won't  hurt  you  if  I  tell  you?"  I  asked. 

"No;  please." 

"Elsie,  it  was  your  dear  mother,  who  has  never 
ceased  to  love  you  and  to  look  for  you  all  these 
years,  and  has  kept  the  home  so  pretty  and  com- 
fortable, waiting  for  you  to  come  back." 

"Where  is  mother  ?  Don't,  oh !  don't  tell  me 
she  is  here." 

"No,  dear,  she  is  at  home.  It  is  nearly  a  year 
since  she  asked  me  to  try  to  find  you." 

"Elsie  do  you  love  Jesus?"  I  continued.  "Have 
you  asked  him  to  forgive  you?" 

"It's  too  late,     I've  been  too  bad." 

"We  have  all  sinned,  Elsie.  'All  have  come 
short  of  the  glory  of  God.'  May  I  pray  for 
you  ?" 

"Yes,  if  you  think  he'll  hear." 

After  my  prayer  she  offered  one — <so  short  but 
oh !  so  contrite,  so  very,  very  contrite. 

I  called  again  the  next  day.  She  could  barely 
speak  even  in  a  whisper,  but  she  managed  to  let 
me  know  that  she  had  had  a  beautiful  dream  and 
that  after  her  death  I  was  to  write  her  nwther  that 
Elsie's  last  words  to  me  were,  "Tell  mother  I'll 
meet  her  in  heaven,"  but  not  to  let  her  know  when 
and  where  her  daughter  died.  She  passed  away 
that  night.  The  letter  to  the  mother  was  very 
brief,   and   no    address   given,   so   that   there   was 


304  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

no  opportunity  of  subsequent  correspondence. 
Three  months  later  news  came  to  me  that  the 
poor ,  loving,  well-meaning,  though  mistaken  mother 
had  gone  to  join  her  dearly  loved,  lost  and  found 
Elsie  in  that  "land  that  is  fairer  than  day." 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  805 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

A    WONDERFUL    LEADING — HOW    GIRLS    ARE 
LURED    TO    THE     DANCE-HALLS. 

Early  in  March,  1906,  I  returned  to  a  board 
meeting  at  Beth-Adriel,  following  which  I  began 
speculating  as  to  my  next  move,  for  as  yet  I  had 
no  direct  leadings.  Before  retiring  I  prayed  earn- 
estly to  know  the  mind  of  the  Spirit.  It  was  in 
the  neighborhood  of  2   A.   M.   when   I   awakened 

with   the   impression    to    "Go   to    B ■."      As    I 

knew  it  would  be  an  expensive  trip,  I  decided  to 
ask  the  ticket-agent  whether  he  would  grant  a 
stop-over  privilege  on  my  half-rate  ticket.  Learn- 
ing that  he  would,  I  decided  to  take  every  ad- 
vantage  of   this    and    eventually,    say    within    six 

weeks,  to   reach   B .      That   afternoon,   whilst 

on  the  train,   I   suddenly  remembered  that  I  had 

ordered  my  trunk  checked  to  B ,  and  again  I 

felt  that  strong  impression  to  go  right  through. 
So  when  the  conductor  called  for  tickets,  I  for- 
feited all  stop-over  privileges. 

I  arrived  there  about  2  A.  M.,  and  at  once 
went  to  the  leading  hotel.  About  ten  o'clock  the 
following  morning  I  was  asking  the  gentlemanly 
clerk  a  question  similar  to  the  one  I  had  asked 
the  Redwood  City  depot-agent.  It  quite  discon- 
certed him  for  a  moment;  but,  upon  learning  my 


306  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

object,  he  referred  me  to  a  Salvation  Array  woman^ 
whom  I  immediately  looked  up  and  fortunately 
found  at  home.  She  was  pleased  to  receive  one 
on  such  an  errand,  and  agreed  to  accompany  me 
to  the  dance-hall  and  slum  district  that  night. 

My  next  errand  was  room-hunting.  Very  sel- 
dom do  I  remain  more  than  one  night  in  a  hotel 
in  a  strange  town,  for  almost  invariably  many 
doors  are  soon  opened  to  the  non-salaried  workers 
in  the  Master's  vineyard.  Then  the  next  thing  is 
to  walk  around  in  order  to  get  my  bearings  and 
familiarize  myself  with  the  town,  the  churches, 
the  press,  the  pastors,  etc.  As  soon  as  possible  I 
call  upon  the  pastors  and  make  engagements  to  fill 
pulpits.  This  privilege,  however,  is  granted  only 
after  the  ministers  have,  to  their  satisfaction,,  ex- 
amined my  credentials  and  indorsements. 

At  seven  o'clock  that  evening  I  was  again  with 
Mrs.  Wilson,  now  attired  in  her  regulation  uni- 
form, and  at  half-past  eight  we  stood  in  one  of 
the  popular  dance-halls.  Here  dancing,  drink- 
ing, smoking,  and  gambling  were  being  indulged 
in  by  black,  white,  tan,  and  mulatto  of  both  sexes. 
Barring  a  few  exceptions,  I  have  never  seen  such 
an  array  of  the  inferior  type  of  nationalities.  The 
place  was  crowded ;  for  this  was  Saturday  night 
and  also  St.  Patrick's  Day. 

While  Mrs.  W51&on  was  at  the  bar  asking  if  I 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  307 

might  sing  and  speak^  a  slender,  fair-haired  girl 
suddenly  seized  my  left  hand  and  quickly  whis- 
pered: "Lady,  we  are  trapped.  Quick!  your  num- 
ber. Where  do  you  live?  Act  as  though  you 
weren't  speaking  to  me.  The  proprietor  may  be 
watching.  I'll  be  there  at  ten  in  the  morning."  I 
immediately  gave  my  street  and  number,  and  she 
skipped  away,  just  as  Mrs.  Wilson  returned  to 
tell  me  that  she  had  not  succeeded.  This  refusal 
was  only  what  we  had  expected.  After  distribut- 
'ing  a  few  tracts  we  were  requested  to  desist;  so 
we  concluded  to  go  elsewhere.  That  sight  was 
sickening.  And  that  refined-looking  girl — ■  who 
was  she.^  What  did  she  mean?  We  shall  soon 
learn. 

Other  places  which  we  visited  that  night  were 
equally  as  bad,  in  fact,  indescribably  so,  and  they 
were  numerous.  However,  we  did  what  we  could; 
but  only  once  could  I  make  use  of  the  autoharp, 
and  then  only  to  sing  to  the  poor  souls  coming  out 
of  the  first  dance-hall,  for  we  held  a  brief  street- 
meeting.  I  observed  that  not  one  girl  or  woman 
put  her  head  out  of  the  door;  afterwards  I  learned 
that  a  fine  of  $2.50  was  imposed  for  every  of- 
fense of  this  nature  between  the  hours  of  7 :  30 
P.  M.  and  3:30  A.  M. 

Upon  returning  from  my  breakfast  the  follow- 
ing morning,  I  was  informed  by  my  landla^  that 


308  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

two  young  women  were  awaiting  my  return.  After 
the  greeting  both  commenced  to  talk  so  excitedly 
that  I  requested  one  to  be  the  spokesman  for  the 
other.  They  appeared  to  be  nearly  of  an  age, 
about  sixteen  and  seventeen,  and  were  sisters. 
As  nearly  as  I  can  remember,  this  was  their 
story: 

"We  were  attending  high  school  several  miles 
from  our  home.  When  we  returned  home  at  the 
time  of  the  spring  term,  we  learned  that  father's 
crops  had  failed  and  that  mother  was  almost  dis- 
abled from  rheumatism.  What  little  reserve  fund 
they  had  was  almost  used  up  for  medicines  and 
necessities ;  so  after  a  discussion  of  the  matter 
they  agreed  to  let  us  go  to  the  city  (San  Fran- 
cisco) to  work,  provided  we  should  promise  not  to 
separate.  This  would  leave  our  fourteen-year- 
old  sister  to  help  mother,  and  the  two  boys  to  as- 
sist father. 

"A  few  days  later  we,  after  kneeling  in  prayer 
with  our  mother,  started  on  our  journey.  In  a 
few  hours  we  were  asking  the  matron  at  the  Oak- 
land ferry-depot  for  a  respectable  lodging-house. 
She  directed  us,  and  from  there  we  obtained  situa- 
tions as  waitresses  in  a  first-class  private  hotel  on 
Bush  Street,  where  we  remained  and  gave  satis- 
faction for  some  time;  but  one  afternoon  we  were 
foolish  enough  to  yield  to  the  persuasions  of  some 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  309 

of  our  girl  companions  to  take  a  car  ride  to  the 
Park  and  Cliff  House.  I  suppose  we  were  en- 
joying ourselves  so  much  that  we  did  not  realize 
how  quickly  the  time  was  slipping  away  vmtil 
some  one  remarked,  "O  girls,  look  at  the  clock!" 
It  was  within  fifteen  minutes  of  the  hour  when 
dinner  must  be  served.  We  all  ran  for  our  car. 
When  we  arrived  at  the  hotel,  the  landlady  had 
put  a  new  crew  in  our  places.  She  would  listen 
to  no  excuses,  but  told  all  four  of  us  to  go  to  the 
office  for  what  wages  were  due  us.  Ours  wasn't 
much,  for  we  had  been  sending  most  of  it  home 
right  along;  so  we  were  soon  reduced  to  our  last 
dollar. 

"One  of  the  girls  who  had  worked  with  us  told 
us  to  go  to  a  certain  employment  agency  (situated 
then  on  Ellis  Street).  The  man  behind  the  counter 
seemed  to  have  lots  of  situations,  but  only  one 
where  we  could  work  together,  and  as  neither  one 
of  us  knew  how  to  cook,  we  couldn't  take  it. 
It  was  for  cook  and  second  girl  in  a  pri- 
vate family.  'Hold  on,'  he  said,  as  we  were 
about  to  leave  and  try  some  other  agency; 
'would  you  be  willing  to  leave  town.''  If  so,  I 
have  a  nice  place  for  two  waitresses  in  a  resort 
patronized  by  none  but  the  best  people  of  the  neigh- 
borhood.' We  told  him  we  couldn't  aflFord  to  take 
it  unless  some  one  would  advance  our  office  fees 


810  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

and  our  fares.  'I'll  see  to  that/  he  replied.  'Can 
you  be  ready  to  leave  right  away?'  There  was 
nothing  to  prevent,  as  our  trunks  were  packed  with 
the  expectation  of  obtaining  immediate  employ- 
ment; so  all  we  had  to  do  was  to  go  quickly  to  our 
room  with  an  expressman,  then  take  a  car  to  the 
depot,  where  the  agent  would  meet  us,  check  our 
trunks,  put  us  aboard  our  train,  and  leave  us,  with 
our  tickets,  bound  for  B — ^ — >. 

"My!  how  we  did  hurry  through!  The  girls 
who  roomed  with  us  had  gone  out ;  so  as  our  weekly 
rent  was  paid  in  advance,  we  didn't  see  even  the 
landlady  when  we  left  our  lodgings.  We  reached 
the  Oakland  Mole,  took  our  train,  and  after  a  long 
day's  j  ourney  arrived  at  our  destination  in  the  early 
morning  hours.  We  were  met  by  some  woman,  who 
brought  us  in  a  hack  to  the  place  where  my  sis- 
ter spoke  to  you  last  night — only  she  did  not  take 
us  into  the  dance-hall,  but  somewhere  up-stairs, 
into  a  comfortable  bedroom.  In  a  few  minutes  she 
came  with  a  nice  meal  on  a  tray,  told  us  to  eat,  to 
put  the  tray  outside  the  door  after  we  had  fin- 
ished eating,  and  then  to  go  to  bed  and  sleep  as 
long  as  we  wanted  to,  as  she  knew  we  were  tired; 
then  she  left  us. 

"It  seemed  to  be  pretty  noisy  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, but  we  were  too  weary  to  care,  so  were  soon 
asleep.     When  we  went  to  leave  that  room  in  the 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  811 

morning,  we  found  we  were  locked  in.  Sister 
hammered  on  the  door,  and  soon  the  woman  came. 
She  told  us  she  had  done  it  to  keep  the  other 
lodgers  from  disturbing  us;  but  before  evening 
we  knew  that  something  was  wrong,  for  she  never 
lost  sight  of  us  for  a  moment.  Then  she  told 
us  there  was  going  to  be  a  dance  that  night,  and 
asked  us  to  look  our  best. 

"About  half-past  seven  we  went  with  her  down- 
stairs and  then  along  a  passage-way  into  that 
hall  where  you^  found  us  last  night.  Sister  and 
I  looked  around  for  a  minute,  and  then  both  of 
us  said  to  the  woman,  'What  kind  of  a  place  is 
this?'  There  was  a  long  bar,  and  two  or  three 
young  men  were  cleaning  glasses  and  wiping  bot- 
tles, and  there  were  lots  of  girls  in  fancy  dresses 
standing  around,  chatting  and  some  smoking  cigar- 
ettes, also  a  few  men,  young  and  old.  We  were 
[reader,  I  will  give  you  their  exact  expression] 
scared  stiff.  The  woman,  after  introducing  us  to 
a  fine-looking  young  man,  said  to  him,  'These  are 
the  young  girls  sent  by  — i — |,  the  Ellis  Street 
employment  agent.'  Then  she  took  us  into  the 
dance-hall  a  few  feet  away.  She  told  us  that  the 
young  man  was  the  proprietor  of  the  place  and 
that  he  would  be  a  good  friend,  as  would  she,  if 
we  wouldn't  'do  any  kicking.'  About  8:30  the 
crowd  began  to  come  in  earnest,  and  by  9 :  30,  and 


812  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

from  that  on,  men  and  girls  drank^  danced,  and 
cut  up  until  closing-time. 

"Mother  Roberts,  I  can  only  liken  our  first 
night  in  that  awful  saloon  and  dance-hall  to  a 
bad  nightmare. 

"The  woman  didn't  require  us  to  dance  unless 
we  wanted  to,  until  the  second  night;  then  she 
said  that  we  must,  or  else  we  would  be  fined,  and 
that  as  we  already  owed  our  fares,  also  other  debts 
for  incidental  expenses,  the  sooner  we  made  the 
best  of  the  situation  the  better  it  would  be  for  us. 
She  called  some  girls  to  come  and  tell  us  how  much 
they  enjoyed  the  life  they  were  now  leading,  and 
how  much  money  they  were  making  in  percentage 
on  the  drinks  that  were  sold  across  the  bar  to  the 
men  and  them.  They  said  we  needn't  drink  whis- 
key if  we  didn't  want  to,  as  we  would  need  to 
keep  our  heads  if  we  were  going  to  make  all  we 
could  out  of  the  men  in  getting  them  drunk." 

"Why  didn)t  you  appeal  to  the  authorities,  girls?" 
I  inquired. 

"Mother  Roberts,  they  only  laughed  at  us.  We 
tried.  It  was  no  use.  They  seemingly  stood  in 
with  the  proprietor.  Millie  went  to  the  post-o£Bce, 
accompanied  by  one  of  the  girls,  an  old  hand, 
the  second  day  after  we  arrived,  to  see  if  any 
mail  had  been  forwarded,  and  on  the  way  back 
stepped   into   the   — ' —   Hotel   to  inquire  if  they 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  313 

had  any  vacancies  for  two  waitresses?  The  clerk 
asked,  'What  address?'  She  was  too  ashamed  to 
tell  him  where  we  really  were;  so  told  him  to 
drop  a  card  into  the  post-office  general  delivery 
as  soon  as  he  had  situations  for  two.  About  three 
days  afterward  she  got  a  post-card  saying  there 
was  one  vacancy;  but  we  couldn't  take  it,  as  we 
were  more  determined  than  ever  not  to  separate." 

When  I  told  them  how  it  happened  that  I  came, 
those  two  poor  girls  cried  with  joy  and  thank- 
fulness. And  now  to  act  quickly.  We  all  knelt 
in  prayer.  They  agreed  to  stay  in  my  room  whilst 
I  went  out  to  notify  Mrs.  Wilson  and  the  pas- 
tors. Never  in  all  my  life  did  I  work  faster,  and 
in  an  hour  I  had  these  sisters  safely  housed  with 

Mrs.   W ',   as   she  would   not  be  suspected  of 

secreting  them.  At  two  o'clock  the  pastors  met 
me  in  one  of  the  church  studies.  They  decided 
to  call  immediately  for  a  mass  meeting  of  women 
on  the  following  afternoon,  to  be  addressed  by 
me.  Notices  to  this  effect  were  gladly  inserted 
by  editors  of  the  daily  papers.  The  whole  com- 
munity was  astir. 

In  the  meanwhile  the  dive-proprietors  were 
searching  for  the  girls.  No  one  suspected  Mrs. 
Wilson  or  me.  In  fact,  those  dive-keepers  had 
not  regarded  me  as  any  more  than  an  ordinary 
visitor  that  night  of  my  introduction  to  their  dance- 


814  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

halls^  and  had  not  noticed  the  girl  speaking  to 
me. 

Before  they   left   B \,  the   following   article 

came  out  as  an  editorial  in  one  of  the  leading  daily 
papers.  It  appeared  on  the  morning  of  March 
23,    1906. 

HOW   GXBI^S  ASX:   I^VBED   TO   DANCE-EAI.I.S. 

The  g-eneral  interest  in  the  efforts  to  better  the  con- 
ditions of  the  fallen  women,  make  timely  a  rough 
outline  of  the  methods  by  which  girls  are  lured  into 
the  haunts  of  vice,  and  kept  there  until  they  have  lost 
all  power  or  desire  to  escape  and  win  their  way  back 
to  decency  and  respectability.  It  is  not  pretended  that 
this  line  is  accurate,  or  that  it  fits  any  particular 
case,  but  the  information  on  which  it  is  based  is 
gained  from  what  are  believed  to  be  reliable  sources, 
and  it  is  not  likely  to  be  misleading  if  applied  in  a 
general  way. 

HOW    OIBi;S    ABE    lOUBED. 

In  the  first  place,  of  course,  no  girl  that  has  not 
made  some  misstep  or  committed  some  indiscretion, 
could  be  enticed  to  a  dance-hall  or  kept  there  for  a 
moment  if  it  were  possible  to  get  her  inside  its  doors. 
But  in  every  city  or  village  in  the  country  there  are 
persons  In  the  guise  of  men  [yes,  and  women  also]  who 
are  actively  interested  in  helping  girls  to  make  the 
first  misstep.  These  scouts  and  envoys  of  infamy  are 
at  the  public  dances;  they  waylay  waitresses  and  work- 
ing girls  who  are  struggling  to  keep  themselves  on 
wages  that  are  insuflScient  for  their  actual  needs  of 
food  and  clothing. 

They  get  into  the  confidence  of  these  girls,  and 
sometimes  when  they  are  "down  on  their  luck"  or 
when  they  have  committed  some  act  that  makes  them 
ashamed  to  look  their  family  or  their  employers  In  the 
face,   these  men   come  in   the   name  of  friendship  and 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  315 


promise  to  find  the  overworked  and  underpaid  g-irl,  or 
the  indiscreet  girl,  a  place  where  she  can  earn  money 
fast  and  earn   it   easily. 

TSB      DAHCE-HAIA      J,TP1B. 

As  a  usual  thing:  the  grirls  are  taken  to  some  place 
in  another  town  where  they  are  not  acquainted.  This 
suits  the  g:irl,  because  she  does  not  want  to  meet 
her  acquaintances,  and  it  suits  the  man,  because  it 
gives  him  greater  security  in  his  evil  transaction.  The 
girl  is  nearly  always  penniless  at  this  stage,  and  the 
man  advances  the  money  for  the  railroad  ticket  and 
the  necessary  food.  The  first  act  that  lures  the  girl 
to  the  dance-hall  is  disguised  as  an  act  of  friendship, 
and  the  first  bond  that  is  placed  on  her  to  keep  her 
there  is  the  bond  of  gratitude  and  obligation.  In  addi- 
tion to  that,  where  would  she  go  if  she  did  not  like 
her  first  glimpse  of  the  dance-hall,  an  ignorant,  friend- 
less girl  in  a  strange  town? 

TSE    "BUXES"    OF    TKE    HOUSE. 

One  of  the  first  things  in  which  the  recruit  to  the 
dance-hall  is  instructed  is  the  rules  of  the  house.  She 
must  be  on  the  floor,  ready  to  dance  at  seven  o'clock, 
and  they  must  remain  on  duty  until  3  A.  M.,  or  so  long 
as  the  patrons  of  the  house  continue  to  come  and 
buy  drinks.  Between  these  hours  they  have  thirty 
minutes  for  supper.  If  they  are  a  minute  late  or  stay 
a  minute  over  the  time  allowed  for  supper,  if  they 
step  out  on  the  sidewalk  during  their  hours  of  duty,  if 
they  get  drunk,  or  if  they  commit  other  stated  of- 
fenses, they  are  subject  to  a  fine  by  the  manager  of  the 
house,  and  the  fines  range  from  two  dollars  and  a 
half  up. 

In  the  beginning  of  her  career  the  new  recruit  usu- 
ally gets  fines  charged  against  her  faster  than  her 
credits  mount  up  on  the  manager's  book.  But  there 
are  other  rules,  one  of  the  chief  of  which  is  to  make 
the  men  who  come  into  the  dance-hall  buy  as  many 
drinks  as  possible,  and  if  a  man  comes  in  who  has 
money,  to  see  that  he  spends  it  all  before  he  departs. 


316  .  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

The  g:lrl  is  coached  in  the  art  of  grettlngr  the  money 
from  the  men,  and  in  some  of  the  worst  dives  they 
are  told  that  if  they  get  hold  of  a  fnan  who  has  money, 
and  who  does  not  seem  Inclined  to  give  it  all  up,  to 
give  the  bar-tender  a  wink  when  the  refractory  cus- 
tomer calls  for  his  drinks,  and  the  bar-tender  will 
"slip  him  something:"  that  will  make  him  more  amen- 
able. 

THE     FEBCENTAQi:      STSTEM. 

The  way  girls  make  money  for  themselves  is  through 
percentages  on  the  liquor  which  the  men  they  dance 
with  buy.  After  every  dance  the  dancers  line  up  at 
the  bar  and  drink.  The  drinks  for  a  man  and  his 
partner  are  twenty-five  cents,  and  the  girl's  per- 
centage is  ten  cents.  If  a  man  is  liberal  and  will 
buy  wine  at  one  dollar  a  bottle  the  girl's  percentage 
is  forty  cents.  If  he  is  still  more  liberal  and  will  buy 
wine  at  five  dollars  per  bottle,  the  girl  gets  two  dol- 
lars and  a  half.  The  percentages  are  punched  on  a 
little  card  which  the  girl  carries,  and  they  are  added 
up  in  the  morning. 

The  money  which  the  percentages  represent,  how- 
ever, is  not  all  paid  over  to  the  girl  in  the  morn- 
ing. She  is  given  what  cash  the  manager  thinks  is 
necessary  to  keep  her  through  the  day,  and  the  re- 
maining is  credited  against  the  railroad  fare  that  has 
been  advanced,  and  against  the  fines  that  may  have 
accumulated.  If  a  girl  does  not  like  the  place  and 
wants  to  leave,  she  is  shown  her  account  and  informed 
that  there  is  a  balance  due  the  house,  and  that  it  will 
be  necessary  to  hold  her  clothes  and  other  effects. 

BECOMES      SCHOOI^ES     XET     VICE. 

In  the  meantime  the  girl  is  being  schooled  in  vice 
and  crime.  She  learns  that  it  is  more  expeditious 
sometimes  to  take  a  man's  money  out  of  his  pockets 
than  to  wait  for  him  to  spend  it  twenty-five  cents  at 
a  time,  buying  drinks.  No  matter  whether  the  house 
profits  by  these  thefts  or  not,  they  form  another  bond 
to  tie  the  girl  to  a  life  of  shame;  for  some  one  must 
always   know   of   them,   and   if  the   girl   is   untractable 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  817 


she  is  threatened  with  criminal  prosecution.  If  she 
commits  no  crime,  she  can  still  be  charged  with  va- 
grancy, and  it  too  often  happens  that  police  officers, 
knowingly  or  unknowingly,  are  made  the  instruments 
of  persecution  and  the  means  for  whipping  these  un- 
fortunate women  into  submission  to  any  wrong. 

Dancing  all  night  every  night,  drinking  after  every 
dance,  living  in  the  fumes  of  liquor  and  tobacco,  and 
in  constant  jangle  of  profanity  and  obscenity,  how 
long  is  required  to  snuff  out  every  spark  of  womanli- 
ness that  a  girl  may  bring  with  her  to  such  a  haunt? 

BOO-J^IKE    BEVOTXOXr    TO    MAXiE    ASSOCIATES. 

And  yet  there  is  one  trait  of  her  sex  that  is  not 
snuffed  out.  It  is  the  distinguishing  trait  of  woman- 
kind and  one  of  the  finest  traits  that  the  human  race 
can   boast   of — the   trait  of  constancy  and  devotion. 

The  lower  the  fallen  woman  sinks,  the  more  wrongs 
and  iniquities  that  are  placed  upon  her,  the  stronger 
it  sometimes  seems  this  devotion  and  constancy  be- 
comes. Nine-tenths  of  all  the  women  of  the  tender- 
loin, it  is  stated,  have  some  man,  or  some  animal 
called  a  man,  about  whom  this  affection,  this  dog- like 
devotion  centers.  No  matter  how  much  he  may  abuse 
her,  no  matter  if  he  takes  every  cent  of  the  earnings 
of  her  misery  and  shame,  no  matter  if  he  beats  and 
kicks  her  because  she  can  not  give  him  more,  the 
girl  in  nearly  every  case,  is  faithful  to  "the  kid"  and 
the  worst  fate  than  can  befall  her  is  that  "the  kid" 
should  "throw  her  down."  [In  other  words,  forsake 
her.] 

And  "the  kid"  always  throws  her  down  some  time; 
for  "the  kid"  is  not  encumbered  with  any  such  incon- 
venient  traits  as   constancy   and   devotion. 

Then  there  is  carbolic  acid,  or  a  long  debauch,  and 
a  sinking  down  of  the  system,  and  the  horrible  dis- 
ease against  which  even  the  county  hospitals,  which 
are  open  to  the  criminals  and  outcasts  of  society, 
who  never  did  a  stroke  of  useful  work  In  all  their 
lives,  close  their  doors.  And  then  there  is  the  dishon- 
ored grave,  over  which  the  friends  and  the  relatives, 
maybe,  are  ashamed  to  weep. 


318  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

DAXrCE-HAXtliS    TABOOED. 

In  the  enlightened  communities,  where  there  is  a 
healthy  public  sentiment,  dance-halls  are  no  longer 
tolerated.  Their  day  is  over  in  California,  and  in  only 
a  few  places  are  they  permitted  to  exist.  In  the  places 
where  they  do  exist  the  communities  are  still  hanging: 
on  the  ragged  edge  of  frontier  life,  where  there  is 
little  regard  for  the  common  decencies  of  life.  Sac- 
ramento recently  made  a  clean-up  of  its  dives,  and 
disreputable   dance-halls   were   closed   up. 

It  is  recognized  by  those  who  are  observant,  that 
dance-halls  are  more  degrading  than  any  other  form 
of  dissipation.  They  are  public  institutions  with  their 
doors  open  to  all  who  enter,  and  those  with  money  to 
spend  are  made  welcome.  When  the  money  is  gone, 
their  welcome  is  worn  out,  and  if  the  person  is  satu- 
rated with  liquor,  he  is  kicked  out  ignominiously,  only 
to  return  when  he  has  more  money  to  spend. 

THE    BECBtriTZNa    STATIONS. 

In  the  large  cities  agents  ply  their  trade  of  secur- 
ing recruits  for  the  dives  in  the  interior.  Girls  on 
whose  cheeks  the  blush  of  innocence  still  remains,  are 
employed  for  various  respectable  positions,  and  sent 
to  the  interior.  They  are  escorted  to  the  trains,  and 
even  in  some  instances  the  proprietors  of  the  dives 
see  that  they  are  on  their  way  safely  to  their  dens 
of  infamy.  A  telegram  is  forwarded  informing  the 
resident  manager,  that  more  material  for  the  dive  is 
en  route.  The  local  manager  meets  the  girls  at  the 
train  with  a  hack  and  when  they  arrive  at  the  place, 
almost  invariably  at  night,  they  find  their  trunks  have 
preceded  them.  They  learn  little  of  their  surround- 
ings in  the  late  hours  of  the  night,  and  when  they  do 
realize  their  positions,  they  feel  altogether  lost,  with- 
out money   or  friends. 

BECENT    CASES    SUBKITTED. 

The  foregoing  is  not  always  the  case.  Some  know  the 
place  of  their  destination,  but  some  of  them  do  not.  Not 
long   ago   a  Los   Angeles   girl   answered   an   advertise- 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  319 


ment    for    work    and    was    told    a   respectable    position 

awaited  her  in  R .     Just  as  she  prepared  to  board 

the  train  for  the  mining-  town,  she  was  taken  in  cus- 
tody.     On   investigation    it   was   learned   that   she   was 

destined    for    a    notorious    dance-hall    in    R ,    that 

even  the  respectable  people  of  the  town  had  not  been 
able  to   close  up. 

About    two    weeks    ago    a    woman    was    arrested    in 

R and  is  awaiting  trial  in  the  United  States  court 

in  Los  Angeles  for  using  the  mails  for  immoral  pur- 
poses. It  is  alleged  that  she  was  an  agent  for  a  dance- 
hall   in   R and   had   sought   to   obtain   recruits   for 

the  dive. 

Those  in  a  position  to  know,  state  that  the  dance- 
halls  are  far  more  infamous  than  the  real  palaces  of 
degradation.  They  are  the  stepping-stones  to  the  other 
places,  and  lead  on  to  destruction,  preceded  by  misery 
and  shame.  .  .  . 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  WITH  THE  OUTCAST.  321 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

THE    WOMEN    OF    B UP    IN    ARMS^THE 

SISTERS   TAKEN    HOME-^MORE  ABOUT   B . 

MBS.  FI^OBSNCX:  BOBEBTS  STIBS  HEB  AUDIENCE. 

Addressed     Church     Fnll    of     VTomen — Her     Pathetic 

Stories    I^lstened    to    Attentively — Mnch    Interest 

-Manifested  In  the  Cause — ^Baised  Nearly  Fifty 

Dollars   to   Take   Two   Oirls  Bescued   from      ^ 

Dance-hall    to     Their     Bomes. 

The  above  was  the  heading  of  an  article  which 
appeared  in  the  local  papers  on  the  morning  fol- 
lowing the  largest  gathering  of  women  ever  con- 
gregated at  one  time  in  one  of  B — ■ — 's  largest 
churches. 

The  morning  before,  escorted  by  the  chief  of 
police  and  two  officiers  in  plain  clothes,  I  went 
to  that  dance-hall  to  demand  the  trunks  of  the 
sisters.  The  persons  in  charge  claimed  that  they 
did  not  know  where  the  girls'  baggage  was;  that 
the  proprietor  was  away;  that  they  could  not  give 
the  trunks  up  without  his  authority;  and,  further- 
more, that  there  were  debts  of  $22.50  booked 
against  one  sister  and  $21  against  the  other.  Act- 
ing under  legal  advice,  I  gave  them  two  hours,  no 
more,  to  produce  those  trunks  and  their  Con- 
tents, also  two  itemized  bills.  I  returned  at  the 
close  of  that  time  and  found  the  keepers  ready 
to  accept  the  fares  advanced  (no  bills  produced) 


822  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

and  to  have  the  trunks  immediately  removed.  When 
the  sisters  received  their  baggage,  they  declared 
that  both  locks  had  been  broken  and  that  each 
trunk  had  been  robbed  of  many  things;  but  the 
girls  were  so  frightened  and  so  anxious  to  get 
home,  that  they  willingly  stood  the  loss  rather 
than  be  delayed  through  the  arrest  and  the  prose- 
cution of  the  proprietors. 

That  night  the  two  sisters  and  I  went  to  the 
depot  under  an  armed  escort  and  started  for  their 
home,  a  day  and  a  half's  journey  distant.  I  paid 
the  porter  to  be  on  the  lookout  for  any  suspicious- 
acting  travelers  in  our  coach.  Engagements  for 
the  following  Sunday  necessitated  my  immediate 
return  to  B — ■ — ■.  On  our  arrival  at  their  rail- 
road destination  I  had  barely  time  to  catch  my 
next  train;  therefore  I  had  to  leave  explanation  of 
the  situation  to  the  sisters,  now  with  an  aunt,  the 
parents  being  on  their  ranch  in  the  mountains, 
forty  miles  distant  and  accessible  only  by  wagon. 
They  bade  me  a  most  touching  farewell,  promising 
not  to  fail  to  correspond. 

Truly,  all  through  these  strenuous  experiences 
I  was  daily,  hourly  demonstrating  to  my  soul's 
satisfaction  God's  wonderful  leading,  his  strength, 
his  wisdom,  his  great,  great  care,  for  no  evil  be- 
fell me,  neither  did  any  plague  come  nigh  my 
dwelling   (Psa.   91 :  10-12). 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  32S 

On  my  return  to  B on  Saturday  sufficient 

engagements  to  keep  me  in  that  vicinity  at  least 
three  weeks  and  over  were  immediately  made. 
After  filling  these  I  hoped,  God  willing,  to  take 
a  rest  in  the  beautiful  homes  of  some  of  my  Santa 
Cruz  friends.  There  was  an  immense  audience  in 
the  First  Methodist  church  on  Sunday  evening, 
April  8,  and  a  large  collection  was  taken  for  the 
Beth-Adriel  fund.  .  .  . 

Before  I  left  Bi — ' — ,  God  gave  a  most  blessed 
realization  of  his  wonderful  watch-care  over  those 
who  are  earnestly  trying  to  serve  him.  On  Mon- 
day, April  9,  word  reached  me  that  I  should  be 
on  my  guard.  The  proprietor  of  the  — 1 —  dance- 
hall  had  declared  vengeance.  I  had  accepted  an 
invitation  to  dine  with  the  chief  of  police  and 
family  that  evening,  but  on  account  of  this  word 
of  warning  I  deemed  it  wise  to  telephone  to  the 
sheriff's  office  and  ask  protection.  An  enemy  must 
have  received  the  message  and  responded.  When 
I  came  out  of  the  house  to  keep  my  dinner  en- 
gagement, I  had  walked  but  a  few  yards  when 
I  received  a  sudden  impression  to  look  behind  me. 
On  a  fenceless  lawn,  not  three  feet  away,  stood 

— ■ —  with  his  hand  in  his  right  hip  pocket. 

Quick  as  a  flash  I  pointed  the  forefinger  of  my 
right  hand  in  his  face,  saying,  "You  dare  not 
shoot."     "Only  your  sex  protects  you,  you  — ■ — 


324  FIFTEEN    YEARS 


."  he  sneered.     Never  mind  the  vocabu- 


lary of  awful  adjectives  and  names  he  hurled  at 
me,  dear  reader.  I've  never  heard  their  equal  be- 
fore or  since.  There  was  no  one  in  sight  until  his 
sister  presently  crossed  the  road.  But  God  was 
protecting  me,  and  I  knew  it.  Then  the  man 
sneered  about  my  calling  up  the  sheriff's  office  for 
protection.  I  now  knew  he  had  a  coworker  there. 
When  at  last  there  was  a  chance  for  me  to 
speak,  I  quietly  told  him  that  he  was  soon  going 
to  an  awful  hell  unless  he  quickly  amended  his 
ways,  and  that  God  was  going  to  hold  him  and  his 
kind  everlastingly  responsible  for  the  ruination  of 
many,  many  souls,  and  implored  him  to  turn  to 
this  outraged  God  and  plead  for  mercy  and  par- 
don before  it  was  eternally  too  late.  As  they 
turned  to  recross  the  street,  I  added,  "God  wants 
to  bless  you."  With  an  oath  he  hurled  back  at 
me,  " — ' —  — ' — '  — > —  — I — !  I  don't  want  God 
to  bless  me."  Then  I  heard  a  fiendish  laugh  from 
behind  a  hedge;  somebody  clapped  their  hands 
in  great  glee,  and  a  woman's  voice  shouted,  "Good 

for  you  — ' — j!  Give  it  to  her,  the  — ■ ■ — 

— ■ ' — '!     Why  didn't  you  finish  her  while  you 


were  about  it?"  .  .  . 

The  chief  of  police  and  his  wife  saw  to  it  that 
I  was  protected  the  rest  of  my  brief  sojourn,  but 
no  one  can  ever  know  how  much  nearer  that  ex- 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  825 

perience  drew  me  to  my  loving  Lord.  More  than 
one  woman  told  me  the  next  dav  that  they  were 
watching  that  encounter  through  their  lace  cur- 
tainS;  and  that  if  he  had  laid  even  a  finger  on  me 
they  would  have  thrown  up  the  windows  and 
screamed  for  help,  even  have  attempted  personal 
aid.  But  there  was  no  need  of  that;  for  hath  our 
heavenly  Father  not  said  in  Isa.  54:17,  "No 
weapon  that  is  formed  against  thee  shall  pros- 
per; and  every  tongue  that  shall  rise  against  thee 
in  judgment,  thou  shalt  condemn.  This  is  the 
heritage  of  the  servants  of  the  Lord,  and  their 
righteousness  is  of  me,  saith  the  Lord"?  And  in 
Psa.  34 :  7  is  this  blessed  assurance :  "The  angel 
of  the  Lord  encampeth  round  about  them  that 
fear  him,  and  delivereth  them."  Hallelujah!  "In 
thee,  O  Lord,  do  I  put  my  trust:  let  me  never 
be  put  to  confusion."    Psa.  71:1. 

Before  I  left  B ;  that  town  had  a  well- 
organized  law  and  order  league.  The  members  chose 
me  as  their  first  honorary  member.  I  doubt  whether 
any  of  God's  stewards  had  more  friends  and  more 
enemies  at  that  one  time,  in  that  one  locality  than 
did  the  vn*iter  of  this.  But  I  loved  all  and 
prayed  God  to  bless  their  precious  souls  for  Je- 
sus' sake. 

As  usual,  I  was  not  leaving  unaccompanied,  so 
that  instead   of  passing  through   San   Jose,  as    I 


826  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

had  expected,  I  chaperoned  a  young  girl  to  the 
home,  remaining  there  over  night  and  reaching 
Santa  Cruz  the  next  evening. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  327 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

SANTA     CRUZ — REBA'S     LETTER — THE 
EARTHQUAKE. 

"The  Lord  God  is  a  sun  and  shield ;  the  Lord  will 
give  grace  and  glory:  no  good  thing  will  he  with- 
hold from  them  that  walk  uprightly."  Psa.  84:  11. 
I  was  now  enjoying  a  few  days'  sweet  rest  and  fel- 
lowship in  the  home  of  my  sanctified  friends.  Sis- 
ter Bessie  Green  and  her  mother.  Oh,  how  I  en- 
joyed every  moment!  What  a  wonderful  exchange 
of  experiences  and  demonstrations  of  God's  mighty 
love,  power,  and  wisdom  was  ours !  and  what  good 
times  we  had  going  about  amongst  certain  ones 
in  whom  she  was  interested,  visiting  the  mission, 
enjoying  the  lovely  ocean-breeze,  etc.!  On  Sun- 
day, April  16,  we  went  with  a  large  band  of  con- 
secrated young  people  to  assist  in  a  meeting  of 
song  and  gospel  cheer  for  the  inmates  of  the 
almshouse  and  county  hospital. 

My  visit  was  destined  to  be  of  short  duration, 
for  the  next  day  there  came  among  forwarded  mail 
a  letter  reading  somewhat  as  follows: 

Dear  Mother  Roberts: 

I  am  Just  as  blue  if  not  bluer  than  the  paper 
I  am  writing  on,  and  I'll  tell  you  why,  for  you 
know  all  the  circumstances  of  our  recent  trouble. 

When  girls  through  no  real  fault  of  their  own 
get  into  such  an  awful  scrape  as  Millie  and  I 
were   so   unfortunate   as   to   get   into,    but   thank 


328  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

God,  were  rescued  from,  .  .  .  what  kind  of  Chris- 
tians can  they,  must  they  be,  who  will  do  their 
utmost  to  help  still  further  crush  us  by  talking 
all  over  the  town  about  what  happened,  and 
everybody  putting  their  own  construction  on 
what  they  hear,  then  giving  us  the  cold  shoulder. 

Millie  is  at  home.  She's  sick  from  the  awful 
effects  of  it  yet,  and  I'm  trying  to  earn  an  hon- 
est living,  but  it's  no  use.  My  so-called  friends 
won't  give  me  a  chance.  I've  about  made  up 
my  mind  I  might  as  well  have  the  game  as  the 
name;    so   by   the   time   you   receive   this,    I   shall 

probably  be  with  Miss at  her  house  in  C , 

for  I'm  sure  she  will  be  kinder  than  the  folks 
here.  I  don't  suppose  they've  meant  to  harm 
us,  but  just  because  thej'  love  to  talk  they've 
settled  It  for  us  forever.  I  forgive  them,  but 
it's  no  use  to  try  to  be  good  any  longer. 

Don't  think  I  forget  you  or  your  kindness,  and 
I  will  always  love  you  no  matter  what  becomes 
of  me.  Gratefully  yours, 

Reba   . 

"Bessie!  Bessie!  what  shall  I  do?  what  must 
I  do  ?"  I  cried,  wringing  my  hands  and  handing  her 
the  letter  to  read.  Hurriedly  reading  it,  she 
quickly  said,  "Let  us  pray."  Immediately  suit- 
ing the  action  to  the  word,  she  as  briefly  as  pos- 
sible asked  the  Lord  for  speedy  help.  It  came — 
an    instantaneous    impression   to   telephone   to    the 

hotel  at  S where  Reba  had  been  employed. 

"Keep  on,  Bessie,  keep  on  praying,"  I  requested 
as  I  arose  from  my  knees  and  hastened  into  the 
next  room,  took  down  the  receiver,  called  for  the 
long-distance  operator,  asked  for  my  party,  and 
emphatically  declared  it  to  be  a  matter  of  life  and 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  329 

death  requiring  immediate  service.  Shortly  I  was 
talking  to  the  landlady  of  the  N — • —  J Ho- 
tel, who  told  me  that  Reba  was  still  under  her 
roof,  but  was  expecting  to  leave  for  San  Fran- 
cisco on  the  next  train. 

"Please  call  her  to  the  'phone/'  I  said,  and  very 
soon  I  heard  Reba's  voice. 

"Hello;  who  wants  me.^"  she  said. 

"Mother  Roberts,  Reba  dear,"  I  replied.  "Stay 
where  you  are.     I  am  coming  on  the  next  train." 

"But  I'm  going  on  the  next  one  to  San  Fran- 
cisco.    I  can't;  my  trunk  is  at  the  depot." 

"Reba,  you  must  wait  till  I  come,  dear.  I've 
some  good  news  for  you." 

"Very  well;  I'll  wait.  Fortunately,  I  haven't 
bought  my  ticket  yet." 

"Good-by,"  I  gladly  said.    "Meet  me." 

There  was  barely  time  to  make  the  next  train ;  but, 
as  usual,  the  Lord  (bless  his  dear  name  forever!) 

favored  me.     I  reached  S at  7:  30  P.  M.     On 

our  way  to  the  Hotel  Reba  whispered,  "Mother 
Roberts,  will  you  occupy  my  room  with  me  to- 
night.'' I  want  to  have  a  long,  long  talk  and  it's 
the  quietest  part  of  the  house,  up  on  the  third 
floor." 

After  supper  we  repaired  to  her  neat  little 
room,  and  following  prayer,  soon  retired,  but  not 
to  sleep.     Dear  Reba,  with  many  tears,  particu- 


S80  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

larized  the  trying  situation,  as  she  lay  with  my 
arms  about  her.  Shortly  after  midnight  she  sweetly 
slept.  Not  so  with  me.  I  heard  every  hour  and 
half-hour  strike,  up  to  half-past  four,  on  some 
clock  near  by.  It  seemed  very  close  and  warm, 
attributable,  so  I  thought,  to  the  smallness  of  this 
inside  room. 

I  must  have  just  fallen  asleep  when  suddenly 
I  was  awakened  by  a  terrible,  terrible  sensation, 
accompanied  by  fearful  screams  and  crashing  of 
glass  and  furniture.  Reba  was  thrown  out  of  bed, 
then  back  again,  where  I  locked  her  fast  in  my 
arms,  gasping  the  words,  "God  cares !  God  cares, 
Reba!  'We  shall  see  him  face  to  face  and  tell  the 
story  saved  by  grace,'  "  for  at  first  I  could  only  be- 
lieve that  the  end  of  the  world  had  come.  This 
dreadful  noise  was  followed  by  an  awful  stillness 
in  our  immediate  vicinity,  though  we  could  hear, 
apparently  from  outdoors,  mingled  cries,  screams, 
and  groans  of  fright,  distress,  and  pain. 

Reba  leaped  out  of  bed,  instantly  grasped  her 
clothing  and  mine,  and  was  rushing  from  the 
room  when  I  called  out :  "Come  back !  Come  back 
and  dress.  We've  had  an  earthquake  and  an  awful 
one,  but  somehow  I  feel  the  worst  of  it  is  over." 
Never  did  we  more  quickly  get  into  our  clothing 
and  step  outside.  The  hallway  and  rooms  were 
piled  with  debris.     Plaster,  laths,  broken  pictures, 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  S31 

and  furniture  lay  in  shapeless  confusion  on  every 
hand.  We  came  to  the  staircase.  Part  was  gone; 
every  step  was  likewise  covered  with  the  ruins  of 
broken  ceiling  and  wall.  Devastation  was  every- 
where, everywhere.  Trusting  the  Lord,  I  landed 
safely  on  that  tottering  staircase,  Reba  quickly 
following;  and  soon  we  were  with  the  frightened 
population  out  on  the  streets,  gazing,  well-nigh 
speechless,  at  the  awful  ruins  which  lay  on  every 
side.  Every  one  was  wondering,  with  aching, 
troubled  hearts,  concerning  their  absent  loved  ones. 
How  was  it  faring  with  them?  How  far  had  this 
earthquake  extended.''  Could  it  possibly  have  been 
any  worse  in  other  places  than  in  this  one.''  Soon 
we  discovered,  as  we  hurried  to  the  telegraph  and 
telephone  oflSces,  that  all  communication  with  the 
outside  world  was  absolutely  cut  oflF.  All  sorts  of 
dreadful  rumors  were  afloat;  later  many  were 
verified;  whilst  some  proved  to  have  been  more 
or  less  exaggerated. 

In  the  afternoon  word  reached  us  that  San 
Francisco  was  burning.  My  dear  son,  now  in  the 
employ  of  the  Gorham  Rubber  Company  was 
living  there.  I  wondered  if  it  had  reached 
Haight  Street;  all  I  could  do  was  to  pray 
and  wait,  wait  and  pray.  Many,  I  suppose,  gave 
hunger  no  thought  that  day,  for  anxiety  was  well- 
nigh  consuming  us.     The  depot  was  crowded  with 


332  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

people  anxious  to  get  aboard  the  first  train  that 
might  arrive,  but  there  was  no  promise  or  prospect 
of  one  that  day.  Reba  and  I  put  in  our  time  be- 
tween the  telegraph-office  and  the  depot;  so  did 
hundreds  of  others. 

That  night  we  had  a  shake-down  at  the  home 
of  her  aunt,  whose  house  had  not  been  very  badly 
damaged.  I  had  so  satisfactory  a  talk  with  her 
that  Reba  agreed  to  remain  with  her  until  she  could 
get  back  to  her  mountain  home. 

Early  the  next  morning  I  was  again  at  the  de- 
pot. About  nine  o'clock  the  agent  privately  noti- 
fied me  of  the  prospect  of  a  train  from  the  south 
in  perhaps  an  hour,  at  the  same  time  advising  me 
to  "hang  around."  I  made  a  quick  trip  to  where 
Reba  was  staying,  bade  her  farewell,  managed  to 
purchase  a  few  soda  crackers  and  a  piece  of  cheese 
(the  stores  which  had  not  suffered  severely  were 
speedily  cleaned  out  of  all  provisions),  and  re- 
turned to  the  depot  to  watch  and  wait. 

At  last!  at  last!  praise  God,  at  last!  a  train,  a 
crowded  train  arrived.  In  a  very  few  minutes, 
standing  room  was  at  a  premium.  After  a  long 
wait  we  began  to  move  slowly,  but  we  stopped 
after  going  a  very  few  miles,  for  the  road  was 
practically  being  rebuilt.  This  was  our  experience 
the  livelong  day.  In  some  places  we  sat  by  the 
roadside  for  hours,  or  watched  the  men  rebuild- 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  8S8 

ing  the  track.  When  we  came  to  one  high  trestle, 
only  a  few  were  permitted  to  cross  at  a  time,  it 
being  not  only  severed  from  the  main  land  at  either 
end,  but  also  very  shaky.  Here  we  parted  from 
train  No.   1. 

At  the  other  end  of  this  trestle,  we  waited  hours 
for  the  coming  of  a  train  from  the  direction  of 
San  Jose.  This  delay  seemed  interminable,  for  all 
of  us  were  now  out  of  provisions  and  in  an  in- 
tense state  of  suppressed  anxiety  and  excitement. 
But  finally  a  train  slowly  moved  into  view,  and 
we  all  lustily  cheered,  once,  twice,  thrice,  and 
again,  as  we  gladly  boarded  it.  Then  we  learned 
somewhat  concerning  the  terrible  destruction  in 
other  places  all  along  the  line,  and  also  of  the 
fearful   holocaust  in   San   Francisco. 

What,  oh !  what  was  the  fate  of  our  dear  ones 
there?  Ah!  dear  reader,  people  who  had  never 
given  much  thought  to  God  and  their  Savior  were 
now  imploring  mercy  and  pardon,  and  making, 
oh !  such  promises  of  future  loyalty  and  service,  if 
he  would  but  spare  their  loved  ones.  Alas!  but 
few  of  these  promises  were  kept.  These  people 
soon  drifted  back  into  the  world  and  the  former 
error  of  their  ways. 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  WITH  THE  OUTCAST.  335 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 
RELIEF  DUTY — SAN    FRANCISCO — MISS   B 


As  this  is  not  a  history  of  the  awfiil  calami- 
ties of  that  trying  time,  they  will  be  but  lightly 
touched  upon.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  when  late  that 
night  our  train  slowly  crept  along  the  streets  of 
San  Jose  and  finally  reached  the  station,  the  peo- 
ple thronged  the  streets.  They  heartily  cheered 
and  welcomed  us.  Upon  learning  that  an  "inquiry 
bureau"  had  been  established  right  there,  we  soon 
packed  it  almost  to  suffocation,  and  oh!  bless  the 
Lord !  I  was  one  of  the  few  to  receive  news.  I  got 
three  unstamped,  torn-out-of-note-book  letters 
from  my  dear  son,  stating  that  the  fire  had  not 
reached  beyond  Van  Ness  Avenue.  He  lived  a 
little  beyond.  He  was  anxious  for  my  safety.  I 
at  once  sent  similar  short  messages  of  assurance 
to  the  "inquiry  bureau"  of  his  residence  district. 
Then  I  was  passed  through  the  line  and  taken  to 
Beth-Adriel  (martial  law  was  in  force),  there  to 
discover  all  of  the  family  lodging  under  the  beau- 
tiful walnut-trees.  The  house  had  suflFered  con- 
siderable damage,  but,  praise  God !  the  inmates 
had   escaped   personal   injury. 

Relief  duty  at  the  depot  was  my  next  call.  For 
two  days  and  nights  a  large  delegation  of  us  re- 
mained on  perpetual  watch;  for  the  refugee  trains. 


836  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

crowded  with  sick,  hungry,  homeless,  or  penniless 
men,  women,  and  children,  were  now  arriving,  at 
intervals  of  from  fifteen  to  thirty  minutes.  Sta- 
tistics show  that  San  Jose,  the  first  large  city 
southwest  of  San  Francisco,  fed,  clothed,  and  shel- 
tered, temporarily,  some  permanently,  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  thirty-seven  thousand  refugees.  More- 
over, its  probation  committee  of  the  juvenile  court 
handled  the  cases  of  over  fifteen  hundred  desti- 
tute children.  Busy  times !  I  should  say  so !  Only 
the  wonderful  power  of  God  sustained  us,  for  it 
was  break-down  work.  At  the  close  of  the  second 
day  I  was  compelled  to  rest.  After  a  good  night's 
sleep  I  procured  a  furlough  of  forty-eight  hours; 
for  two  more  notes  from  San  Francisco  had  reached 
me,  and  they  described  the  great  suffering,  espe- 
cially because  of  long  waiting  (sometimes  all 
night)  in  the  bread  line. 

San  Jose  generously  supplied  me  with  an  im- 
mense telescope  basket  filled  to  its  utmost  capacity 
with  canned  goods,  cooked  meats,  etc.,  so  that  it 
required  the  assistance  of  two  to  put  it  on  the 
train,  it  was  so  heavy.  On  reaching  the  outskirts 
of  San  Francisco,  I  was  informed  that  I  could  be 
taken  no  further  than  Twenty-fourth  and  Valen- 
cia Streets.  There  people  seized  every  available 
rig,  even  to  garbage  wagons,  paying  exhorbitant 
prices  for  conveyance  to  their  points  of  destina- 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  337 

tion.  What  was  I  now  going  to  do?  The  eight 
hundredth  block  on  Haight  Street  seemed  miles 
away  (I  think  it  was  about  three  and  a  half),  and 
I  had  nobody  to  help  me.  Everybody  was  strictly 
for  self.  Bless  God!  he  had  not  forsaken  me,  as 
I  soon  found  out,  when  he  gave  me  the  strength 
to  shoulder  that  stupendous  burden.  Oh,  bless  God ! 
Every  few  steps  I  rested.  I  would  rest  and  pray, 
go  a  little  farther,  and  then  rest  and  pray 
again.  I  kept  this  up  until  completely  exhausted; 
then  I  sat  on  a  broken-down  step,  minus  the  house, 
imploring  the  kind  heavenly  Father  to  send  me 
help.  Did  ever  he  fail  his  own  in  the  hour  of 
need.''     Never,  no  never. 

Coming  over  the  hill  several  blocks  distant, 
carefully  guiding  his  horse  through  the  debris,  was 
a  man  in  a  wagon  or  buggy.  Like  a  drowning 
person  grasping  at  a  straw,  I  frantically  called 
and  waved  my  hands.  It  took  me  some  time  to 
attract  attention,  but  finally  he  turned  in  my  di- 
rection. Hallelujah!  As  he  neared  me,  I  noticed 
the  words,  "Spring  Valley  Water  Works,"  om  the 
sideboard  of  his  wagon.  "Madam,  can  I  assist 
you?"  he  inquired.  Most  certainly  he  could.  And 
I  humbly,  tearfully,  and  wearily  described  the 
situation.  To  lift  that  heavy  basket  into  the  ve- 
hicle required  oar  united  effort.  Never  did  I 
more  appreciate  help.     The  son  was  at  its  zenith 


838  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

when  I  started;  it  was  now  setting.  God  bless 
that  dear  young  man,  whose  name  I  have  forgot- 
ten! I  hope  that  he  is  living  and  that  this  book 
may  fall  into  his  hands,  so  that  he  may  better  than 
ever  realize  that  our  blessed  Lord  never  forsakes 
those  who  truly  love  and  trust  him. 

Reader,  I  leave  you  to  imagine  the  joyous  re- 
union of  mother  and  son. 

Perfect  peace  and  good  will  was  then  tempor- 
arily reigning  in  that  stricken  city.  Would  to  God 
it  had  continued!  but  alas!  it  was  but  for  a  few 
days.  Once  more  the  adversary  of  the  souls  of 
men  reigns  in  its  midst;  the  liquor  devil  reigns  su- 
preme; whilst  the  few  faithful  ones  are  still  daily 
crying  to  the  throne  of  grace,  "How  long,  O  Lord, 
how  long?" 

Before  all  this  occurred  and  whilst  I  was  in 
San  Francisco  one  day  seeking  aid  for  Beth-Adriel, 
I  called  at  the  house  of  a  Christian  friend  of 
mine.  Presently,  in  the  course  of  conversation,  she 
informed  me  that  her  niece,  who  was  an  employee 
in  one  of  the  large  department  stores  of  San  Fran- 
cisco was  at  home  sick  with  severe  headache,  and 
asked  if  I  would  care  to  see  her.  I  gladly  ac- 
quiesced. Then  my  friend  took  me  into  the  next 
room,  where  lay  the  young  lady  with  her  head 
swathed   in   a   wet  towel   and   evidently   suffering 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  889 

keenly.  I  expressed  sympathy  and  at  once  offered 
to  pray  for  her,  to  which  she  replied: 

"I'll  be  so  glad,  though  I  fear  I  haven't  much 
faith  in  its  eflScacy.  Yes,  pray  for  me,  for  I  must 
get  down  to  the  store  to  report  for  duty  at  one 
o'clock.     I  must.     Sick  or  not  sick,  I  must. 

After  prayer  I  inquired,  "Laura,  dear,  why 
must  you  be  compelled  to  be  on  duty?  Under  ex- 
isting circumstances  they  will  surely  make  every 
allowance." 

Instead  of  making  immediate  answer,  she  asked 
for  her  business  dress  and  presently  drew  from  its 
pocket  a  latch-key. 

"Do  you  see  this.^"  she  inquired. 

"Yes,"  I  replied. 

"Yes,  but  you  do  not  know  what  it  means.  Let  me 
teU  you.  This  key  is  to  be  used  to  unlock  the  door 
of  the  down-town  private  apartments  of  one  of 
our  floor-walkers.  I've  had  my  place  only  a  few 
weeks.  Auntie  is  having  a  struggle  to  keep  her 
lodging-house  filled  so  as  to  meet  her  payments 
on  the  furniture,  rent,  etc.  I  am  only  getting  small 
wages,  not  sufficient  to  support  me,  as  yet;  but  if 
I  can  manage  to  qualify  in  a  large  reputable  store 
like  — — ,  I  shall  have  no  trouble  in  com- 
manding a  better  salary  before  long — ^having  be- 
come so  well  acquainted  with  my  position  as  to 
then  be  a  necessity." 


340  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

"But  what  has  all  that  to  do  with  your  posses- 
sion of  this  key?"  I  interrogated, 

"Wait,  I  am  coming  to  that/'  she  replied. 
"About  a  week  ago  he  (the  floor-walker)  said, 
among  other  things:  'I  observe  that  you  are  quite 
ambitious.  I  intend,  if  you  will  allow  me,  to  still 
further  your  interests.  In  order  that  I  may  do 
this,  I  must  have  your  promise  to  respect  the  con- 
fidence I  am  about  to  repose  in  you.'  Innocently 
I  promised.  'First  of  all,'  he  went  on  to  say,  'you 
have  doubtless  heard  I  am  a  married  man  and  a 
father.'  I  had.  He  has  a  very  delicate  wife  and 
two  dear  little  girls.  He  then  produced  the  key, 
stating  why   he  wanted  my  friendship." 

"Why  did  you  not  immediately  expose  him  to 
the  firm?"  I  indignantly  inquired. 

"Mrs.  Roberts,"  said  Laura,  "you  don't  know 
what  you  are  talking  about.  My  word  would  not 
be  taken  against  his.  I  do  not  yet  know  what  door 
this  key  unlocks.  I  am  not  to  know  until  I  con- 
sent to  use  it  whenever  he  may  request  a  private 
interview.  Every  chance  he  gets,  he  wants  to 
know  when  I  mean  to  yield.  I  am,  for  the  sake 
of  business  experience,  resorting  to  all  sorts  of 
strategy;  then,  when  I  qualify,  I  can  afford  to 
snap  my  fingers  in  the  face  of  this  profligate. 
You've  no  idea  how  much  the  honor  of  business 
young  ladies  is  menaced,  Mrs.  Roberts.     I'm  not 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  341 

hy  any  means  the  only  one.  The  trouble  is,  very 
few  have  the  backbone  to  resist  these  propositions, 
which  invariably  come  in  one  form  or  another  to 
the  working  girls  attractive  of  face  or  form,  or 
of  both.  They  are,  with  scarcely  an  exception, 
poor;  from  infancy  they  have  been  well  dressed, 
too  well  in  fact;  very  few  are  qualified  in  domes- 
tic art,  and  those  who  are  would  almost  rather  do 
anything  than  be  subjected  to  such  humiliations  as 
some  people  in  social  standing  inflict  upon  their 
maids — maids  who  ofttimes  both  by  birth  and 
breeding  are  their  equals  if  not  superiors. 

"I  want  to  help  Auntie.  She  is  so  good  to  me 
in  giving  me  a  home.  If  I  can  only  keep  up,  I 
shall  soon  be  able  to  repay  her, 

"I'm  glad  to  tell  you  my  head  is  much  better, 
so  that  I  shall  be  able  to  report  for  duty.  I'll 
be  all  right  so  long  as  I  trust  in  God  and 
have  people  like  you  and  Auntie  pray  for 
me." 

I  wanted  to  report  this  case  to  the  proprietors 
of  that  store;  but  Laura  was  so  distressed  for  fear 
of  notoriety,  ultimate  results,  also  the  deprivation 
of  a  living  for  that  libertine's  delicate  wife  and 
children,  that  I  reluctantly  desisted.  This  I  know: 
In  answer  to  many  prayers,  both  her  friends'  and 
her  own,  she  won  out;  but  she  never  gave  up  that 
key,  and  to  this  day  she  does  not  know  what  door 


342  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

it  xinlocked  or  whether  some  other  poor,  silly  girl 
received  and  made  use  of  its  duplicate. 

In  visiting  among  the  outcasts,  I  have  learned 
from  the  lips  of  many  that  the  primary  cause  of 
their  downfall  was  the  inadequacy  of  their  wages 
as  saleswomen,  stenographers,  etc.,  for  their  direct 
necessities;  temptations  became  too  great;  the  ulti- 
mate results  were,  alas !  inevitable. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  348 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 


THE     HOME     REPAIRED MRS.    S '8 

EXPERIENCE. 

Thinking  to  appeal  for  the  required  means  to  re- 
pair our  home,  I,  after  prayerful  consideration, 
journeyed  to  Portland,  Oregon,  for  our  State  was 
now  taxed  to  its  utmost  for  finances.  My  sojourn 
was  brief;  for,  besides  being  seized  with  sudden 
illness,  I  learned  that  a  large  sum  of  money 
(thirty-five  thousand  dollars,  I  think)  intended  for 
the  erection  of  a  Florence  Crittenton  home  in  their 
midst  had  now  been  generously  donated  and  sent 
to  the  general  fund  in  San  Francisco,  to  be  ap- 
plied to  just  such  charitable  needs  as  I  repre- 
sented. In  consequence,  I  decided  that,  as  soon 
as  I  was  able  to  travel,  I  should  go  back  to  San 
Francisco.  Through  the  interposition  of  the  Y. 
W.  C.  A.,  I  was  furnished  with  free  transporta- 
tion. Upon  my  return  I  learned  that  all  avail- 
able funds  for  that  purpose  had  already  been  be- 
spoken; but  God,  ever  mindful  of  his  own,  had 
laid  it  upon  the  hearts  of  some  people  of  means,  in 
the  interior,  to  pay  all  expenses  for  repairs,  so 
that  before  many  months  Beth-Adriel  was  once 
more  in  good  order.     In  its  interest,  many,  many 


844  FIFTEEN    YEARS' 

miles  were  traveled  and  thousands  of  people  ad- 
dressed,  personally,   also   collectively. 

Rarely  did  any  service  close  but  that  one  person 
or  more  had  an  unusual  case  of  some  unfortunate 
one,  demanding  immediate  and  special  interest; 
for  instance:  Mrs.  B — ■ — :,  who  personally  knevr 
me,  approached  me  one  day  in  a  greatly  agitated 
state  of  mind  and  confidentially  imparted  some 
dreadful  knowledge  concerning  her  son,  aged  four- 
teen, and  a  girl  schoolmate  of  his,  but  a  few  months 
younger.  Producing  some  notes,  she  permitted 
their  perusal.  They  were  from  the  girl  to  the 
boy,  and  were  couched'  in  the  most  licentious,  un- 
guarded language  imaginable.  I  was  unutterably 
shocked.  "Mother  Roberts,"  said  Mrs.  B — — ,  "I 
will  deal  with  my  son,  but  what  about  the  girl 
who  has  written  these  and,  as  you  read,  has  met 
H> — ^ — '  clandestinely?  I  can  not  go  to  her;  will 
you?"  The  girl's  mother  was  a  lady  of  means 
and  fashion,  a  member  of  one  of  the  exclusive  card- 
clubs  of  that  town,  and  an  inveterate  player.  Pearl 
was  an  only  child.  I  admit  I  felt  timid  about 
approaching  the  mother,  but — it  had  to  be  done 
and  done  quickly. 

In  glancing  over  the  local  paper,  I  had  ob- 
served that  her  progressive  whist-club  was  to  be 

entertained   at   Mrs.  's   lovely  residence  that 

afternoon.     It  was  now   11   A.  M.     I  must  tele- 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  345 

phone,  for  I  knew  that  I  should  not  be  received 
except  by  previous  appointment.  Soon  I  heard 
her  voice: 

"What  is  it,  please;  what  do  you  wish?" 

"A  private  interview  immediately,  of  the  utmost 
importance." 

"Impossible.  Every  moment  is  engaged  until  I 
go  out  this  afternoon." 

"Can  not  help  it.  You  must  grant  it.  It  con- 
cerns a  member  of  your  immediate  family.  It  is 
of   vital  import" 

"Very  well;  you  may  come  right  away,  but  be 
brief.     I  will  grant  you  only  a  few  minutes." 

"Thank  you,"  and  both  receivers  were  hung  up. 

In  response  to  my  ring  the  maid  ushered  me  into 
a  lovely  reception-room,  where  Mrs.  S — ' —  soon 
appeared  in  a  high  state  of  nervous  excitement. 

"You  have  greatly  upset  me,  Mrs.  Roberts,"  she 
said.  "Kindly  be  brief.  To  your  point  at  once. 
I  have  much  to  do,  also  must  dress  before  lunch- 
eon, for  our  card-party  at  Mrs.  — • — ''s  this  after- 
noon." 

"Mrs.  S — • — ^  you  no  doubt  will  be  able  to  iden- 
tify Pearl's  handwriting,"  I  replied. 

"Most  assuredly,"  she  rejoined.     "What  of  it?" 

"Simply  this :  In  my  possession  are  three  notes. 
They  were  written  by  your  daughter  to  a  boy  com- 
panion in  school.     The  boy's  mother  lent  them  to 


846  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

me.  It  is  my  painful  duty  to  show  them  to  you. 
First  of  all,  permit  me  to  assure  you  that  this 
matter  is  perfectly  safe  with  me,"  I  said. 

"Come  into  the  next  room  where  we  can  be  un- 
disturbed and  unobserved,"  she  requested.  Then 
she  rang  the  bell  and  said  to  the  maid: 

"I  shall  not  be  at  home  to  any  one  who  either 
'phones  or  calls." 

(Here  let  me  say  that  having  once  been  asso- 
ciated with  Mrs.  S — » —  socially,  I  was  not  a 
stranger.) 

"Mrs.  S ;  doesn't  Pearl  sometimes  ask  per- 
mission to  go  home  with  a  favorite  girl  compan- 
ion, also  at  times  remain  with  her  over  night,  or 
else  she  with  your  daughter?"  I  asked  after  we 
had  retired  to  the  other  room. 

"Certainly,"  she  answered,  "and  I  may  add,  I 
am  quite  satisfied  to  have  her  do  so,  for  they  can 
both  he  implicitly  trusted." 

"Mrs.  S ^  please  read  these  letters.     I  beg 

of  you,  prepare  yourself  for  an  awful  shock.  .  .  ." 

Presently  the  great  beads  of  perspiration  broke 
out  on  her  forehead  and  dripped  imheeded  into 
her  lap.  After  reading  those  notes  she  made 
mincemeat  of  them,  and  then  lay  back  in  her  chair 
white  and  speechless.  The  silence  was  painful 
beyond  description.  Finally  I  broke  the  silence 
by  saying: 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  847 

"Mrs.  S — — I,  permit  me  to  assist  you  to  your 
room,  then  'phone  Mrs.  — I — •  of  your  sudden  ill- 
ness, and  also  send  for  your  daughter  to  come  home 
immediately." 

She  gladly  acquiesced.  Before  my  departure 
she  faintly  acknowledged  her  realization  of  neglect 
of  duty  and  confidence  toward  the  precious  soul 
entrusted  to  her  keeping,  and  promised  to  deal 
gently  with  the  erring  child.  Furthermore,  she 
said  that  she  had  played  her  last  game  of  cards. 

Pearl  and  her  mother  became  inseparable  com- 
panions. To  this  day  the  daughter  has  no  idea 
who  informed  on  her,  but  this  occurrence  taught 
a  never-to-be-forgotten  lesson  to  more  than  one. 
I  hope  and  pray  that  the  mothers  who  read  this 
may  profit  by  the  story. 

One  with  whom  I  am  well  acquainted  has  an 
only  son.  She  also  was  a  great  lover  of  cards. 
When  the  boy  was  quite  small,  this  mother  in  or- 
der to  prevent  his  disturbing  her  and  her  friends 
in  their  social  game,  provided  him  with  a  tiny 
deck  of  cards.  She  often  smiled  approval  at  his 
and  his  little  companion's  attempts  to  imitate  their 
elders.  Time  went  on.  He  grew  to  manhood. 
Many  an  anxious  evening  she  now  spent  alone;  for 
seldom  did  he  spend  one  with  her,  and  he  always 
had   a  plausible  excuse  in  the  morning. 

He  was  employed  by  one  of  the  leading  firms 


848  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

of  the  city  and  stood  an  excellent  chance  of  fu- 
ture promotion.  One  day,  however,  he  came  home, 
informed  her  of  his  discharge,  refused  to  give  the 
reason,  but  begged  her  to  go  to  his  employers  and 
plead  for  his  reinstatement.  The  grief-stricken 
mother  was  soon  ushered  into  the  manager's  private 
office  and  there  very  kindly  treated;  but  her  plead- 
ings were  all  in  vain.  Her  son,  she  learned, 
had  been  discharged  for  card-playing  and  fre- 
quenting the  pool  room.  He  had  been  warned  twice, 
but  he  had  failed  to  take  heed.  The  firm  would 
make  no  exceptions. 

On  her  return  he  eagerly  interrogated  her  as 
to  the  results  of  the  interview. 

"When?"  she  asked,  "when  did  you  ever  learn 
to  play  cards  and  pool?" 

"Why,  Mother,  don't  you  remember?"  he  an- 
swered. "You  taught  me  yourself  when  I  was  a 
little  shaver." 

"No,  dear,  not  a  real  game,"  she  sobbed. 

"No  matter  if  you  didn't,"  he  rejoined.  "It 
didn't  take  me  long  to  become  fascinated  and 
learn  how  from  older  boys  and  girls.  Then,  when 
it  comes  to  playing,  I  hate  to  remind  you.  Mother, 
but  I  can  not  remember  the  time  wh^n  you  didn't 
play.  I've  seen  you,  time  and  again,  work  harder 
to  earn  a  dinky  vase  or  prize  than  at  anything 
else  under  the  sun.     You  can  buy  them  anywhere 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  849 

for  fifty  cents  or  thereabouts,  and  without  such 
hard  work  as  I've  seen  you  put  in  for  a  whole  eve- 
ning. You  can  blame  yourself,  and  you  ought  to, 
more  than  you  blame  me." 

Then  he  flung  himself  out  of  the  room  and  went 
up-stairs  to  bed. 

The  next  evening  he  returned  from  an  unsuc- 
cessful day's  tramp.  His  chances  for  further  em- 
ployment in  that  city  were  anything  but  encourag- 
ing. That  evening  as  they  sat  by  the  fireside. 
Will's  mother  said: 

"I've  been  thinking  very,  very  seriously  dur- 
ing your  absence  today,  my  dear.  I've  made  a 
resolution,  but  with  this  proviso:  if  I  never  touch 
another  card,  will  you  promise  me  never  to  play 
again.''" 

"Mother,  I  should  like  to,  but  I'm  afraid  to 
make  such  a  promise,"  he  replied.  "You  don't 
know  what  a  hold  it  has  on  me.  But  I  will  try, 
I  surely  will." 

Will's  mother  worked  hard  to  substitute  other  pas- 
times and  to  make  his  h/ome  life  as  interesting  as  she 
knew  how.  She  gathered  musical  friends  about  her, 
encouraged  him  to  cultivate  his  voice,  and  worked  her- 
self almost  to  a  shadow  in  order  to  wean  him  from  the 
hurtful  habit  for  which  she  knew  she  was  directly 
responsible.  She  succeeded,  bless  God!  she  suc- 
ceeded.     Later   he   married   a   very   sweet  young 


850  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

lady,  and  God  blessed  their  union  with  three  chil- 
dren. It  is  safe  to  say  that,  because  of  his  ex- 
perience, card-playing  will  never  be  tolerated  in 
that  happy  little  family,  and  my  earnest  prayer  as 
I  relate  this  is  that  my  reader,  if  a  card-player, 
may  consider  this:  "If  meat  [card-playing]  make 
my  brother  to  offend,  I  will  eat  no  flesh  [no  more 
play  cards]  while  the  world  standeth,  lest  I  make 
my  brother  to  offend."     1  Cor,  8:  13. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  851 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 
THE    ANNUAL    BOARD    MEETING — RESULTS. 

I  have  mentioned  the  fact  that  the  nature  of 
the  work  of  Beth-Adriel  had  so  changed  that  many 
applicants  were,  for  certain  reasons,  debarred  from 
the  home.  One  day  whilst  I  was  calling  upon  one 
of  the  board  members  my  soul  was  greatly  grieved; 
for  a  girl  who  came  and  appealed  for  admission 
was  refused — -kindly  but  firmly  refused,  on  the 
grounds  that  her  physical  condition  would  be  det- 
rimental to  the  welfare  of  the  many  mothers  and 
babes  with  whom  Beth-Adriel  was  now  well  filled; 
and  yet  it  had  never  been  incorporated  for  a  ma- 
ternity home. 

What  was  I  to  do.f*  God  knew  how  hard  I  had 
worked.  The  property  was  now  more  than  half 
paid  for.     What  was  I  to  do? 

As  the  holidays,  which  always  caused  a  tem- 
porary cessation  in  fund-raising,  were  approach- 
ing, I  busied  myself  in  making  little  gifts  for  each 
member  of  the  family.  Whilst  so  doing  I  prayed 
unceasingly  to  know  the  mind  of  God's  Spirit  and 
to  be  definitely  led  of  him. 

Can  I  ever  forget  that  first  prayer-meeting  of 
the  new  year,  1907?  It  being  a  wet  night,  there 
was  nobody  present  besides   the  members   of  the 


852  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

family,  the  matron,  and  her  husband,  except 
Brother  Norton,  his  son,  and  I.  We  had  had  the 
usual  songs,  prayers,  and  Scripture-reading,  and 
we  were  now  testifying.  I  had  testified,  as  also 
had  most  of  the  family,  when  one  of  the  young 
mothers  suddenly  said: 

"Mrs.  Roberts,  I've  something  to  ask  you.  When 
you  persuaded  me  to  come  to  this  place,  didn't  you 
tell  me  I  need  give  only  my  first  name.''" 

"I  did,  Amelia,"  I  answered. 

"Didn't  you  say  that  no  questions  that  might 
embarrass  me  would  be  asked.''" 

"I  certainly  did." 

"Didn't  you  say  no  girl  had  to  sign  any  pa- 
pers here,  and  that  if  she  had  no  money,  the 
home  was  free  to  her.''" 

"Most   assuredly." 

"Then — ^you — lied." 

Reader,  that  poor  girl  dealt  me  a  blow  that  I 
can  not  say  I  have  yet  fully  recovered  from.  Then 
I  knew  that  modern  Tobiah  and  Sanballat  and 
Geshem  (Neh.  2:9)  had  interfered  and  inter- 
cepted the  building  of  God's  work.  I  felt  broken- 
hearted and  could  not  be  comforted.  That  night 
I  spent  in  tears,  nor  could  I  pray  as  I  desired  to 
pray.  The  next  evening  as  I  was  kneeling  by  my 
bedside,  worn  out  with  sorrow,  I  chanced  to  look 
up,  and  I  found  my  gaze  riveted  on  a  little  wall- 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  S58 

motto  containing  these  precious  words:  "Rest  in 
the  Lord." 

(It  hangs  here  on  my  wall  as  I  now  write.  It  is 
a  priceless  possession.)  Instantly  I  said,  "I 
thank  thee,  O  my  Lord,  I  thank  thee,  for  reas- 
surance." Somewhat  comforted,  I  then  wrote  the 
following  verses: 

I  was  kneeling  in  prayer  by  my  bedside. 

Beseeching  a  comforting  word, 
When   I   opened   my   eyes   on   this   motto. 

Simply  telling  me,   "Rest  in  the  Lord." 

It  bangs  where  I  ofttimes  can  see  it. 
This  message  direct  from  our  God. 

As  I  ponder,  my  load  seems  to  lighten, 
I'm  resolving  to  rest   In  my  Lord. 

For,   oh!    I   was   troubled  and  weary. 
And  dark  seemed  the  road  that  I  trod; 

Of  this  I  was  telling  my  Savior, 

When  he  showed  me,  "Rest  thou  in  the  Lord." 

I  wonder  why  I  should  forget  this 

And   weight   myself   down  with   a   load; 

Why  don't   I  depend   more  on  Jesus, 
Who  loves  me,   and  rest  in   my   Lord? 

I'm    persuaded    this    message    from    heaven. 
Direct  from   his   throne,   will   afford 

Perfect  peace  under  trying  conditions 
To  all  who  will  "rest  in  the  Lord." 

For,  oh!   if  his  yoke  Is  upon  us. 

Our  strength   is  renewed  and  restored; 

And   the  burdens,  so  heavy,  are  lightened 
If  we  only  will  "rest  in  the  Lord." 


354  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

I   thank  thee,   dear  heavenly   Father, 

When  I  prayed  for  thy  comforting  word. 

For   directing   my    eyes    to    that   motto: 
'Tis  enough.      I   will  rest  in  my   Lord. 

Beth-Adriel  cottage,  9:  30  P.  M.,  January  4,  1907. 

It  was  enough.  I  was  comforted,  and  I  was 
determined,  like  Paul  of  old,  that  'none  of  these 
things  should  move  me.' 

The  annual  meeting  of  the  board  for  the  election 
of  officers  for  the  ensuing  year  was  about  to  take 
place.  Before  the  board  convened,  I  asked  God 
for  a  test,  promising  him  to  abide  by  it  even 
though  he  required  me  to  give  up  this  hard-earned 
home  if  necessary;  then  I  quietly  "rested  in  my 
Lord." 

The  day  arrived.  The  rain  poured  in  torrents 
all  morning.  I  besought  the  Lord  for  a  clear  af- 
ternoon and  also  for  the  presence  of  every  mem- 
ber. He  answered  my  prayer.  When  it  came  to 
the  reelection  of  officers,  my  election  was  not  unani- 
mous. As  the  test  I  had  besought  was  that  if  the 
Master  intended  I  should  continue  with  them,  he 
should  cause  my  reelection  to  be  unanimous,  I 
read  my  resignation.  Thus  ended  the  annual 
board  meeting  of  1907.  (My  resignation  was  never 
legally   accepted.) 

With  scarcely  an  exception,  "they  all  forsook 
me  and  fled"  (Mark  14:50).  I  walked  out  of 
Beth-Adriel  unattended — one  of  the  loneliest  be- 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  856 

ings  on  earth,  yet  in  the  "secret  of  His  presence." 
This  created  considerable  newspaper  notoriety; 
but  though  mj'  resignation  had  cost  me  all,  my 
conscience  was  "void  of  offense  toward  God"  (Acts 
24:16). 

Soon  I  busied  myself  looking  for  other  quarters. 
Even  they  were  providential;  for  a  friend  met 
me  in  the  post-office  and  proffered  me  her  beau- 
tiful studio,  then  in  disuse,  for  a  merely  nominal 
rent.  There  I  rested  and  wrote  for  three  months, 
intending  that  the  proceeds  of  the  book  entitled 
"The  Autobiography  of  an  Autoharp"  should  start 
another  home.  But  God  willed  otherwise,  as  you 
will  presently  learn. 

Was  the  rescue  work  that  I  so  dearly  loved,  at 
a  standstill?  Oh,  no  indeed.  Not  for  one  day 
was  I  idle;  neither  was  Beth-Adriel.  The  name 
"Beth-Adriel"  was  soon  dropped,  and  the  place 
became  one  of  the  chain  of  Florence  Crittenton 
homes.  I  have  often  sent  there  poor  unfortunates 
that  needed  a  refuge  of  that  nature. 

It  was  marvelous,  the  strength  and  the  courage 
that  the  blessed  Lord  gave  me  during  those  try- 
ing days,  even  to  the  turning  of  my  other  cheek 
(Matt.  5:39). 

Soon  I  received  unanimous  reendorsement  and 
much  encouragement  from  the  pastors'  union  and 
other  sources ;  but  I  was  advised  to  try  for  a  train- 


356  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

ing-school  and  home  for  orphans  at  the  limit  age 
(fourteen)  and  also  for  juvenile  court  dependents 
and  delinquents.  As  is  my  custom,  I  inquired  of 
the  Lord.  I  received  so  strong  an  impression  re- 
garding "an  ounce  of  prevention/'  etc,  that  I  said, 
"Yea,  Lord,  it  is  worth  one  hundred  thousand 
pounds  of  cure."  In  a  short  time  beautiful  and 
practical  plans  were  drawn  up  and  presented  to 
me  by  one  of  San  Jose's  best  architects,  Wesley 
W.  Hastings.  Before  this  took  place,  however, 
several  very  striking  incidents  occurred,  in  a  few 
of  which,  I  feel  sure,  you  will  be  interested.  One 
was  a  case  of  casting  bread  upon  the  waters  and 
finding  of  it  after  many  days  (Eccl.  11:  1). 

Since  my  coming  to  San  Jose  it  had  been  my 
habit  to  attend  frequently  the  mission  then  situ- 
ated on  Fountain  Alley.  One  night  a  poor,  for- 
lorn drunken  man  came  to  the  altar  and  "got  sal- 
vation." After  rising  from  his  knees,  he  said, 
"Lady,  will  you  trust  me  with  a  quarter.''  I 
want  to  get  a  bath  and  bed  and  breakfast  with 
it." 

"You  can  not  get  all  three  for  a  quarter," 
I  replied. 

"Oh  yes,  I  can,"  he  said.  "Down  at  the  Sal- 
vation Army  lodging-house  for  men." 

One  of  the  workers  whispered,  "Don't  do  it. 
He'll  only  spend  it  for  liquor." 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  857 

He  evidently  surmised  what  the  worker  told 
me,  for  he  quickly  said: 

"Don't  be  afraid  to  trust  me.  I  promise  you 
you  shall  never  regret  it." 

I  gave  him  what  he  had  requested,  and,  in 
consequence,  received  rebukes  from  several  of  the 
other  workers. 

The  next  night  he  came  in  looking  fairly  neat, 
but  surely  clean.  At  the  close  of  the  meeting  he 
returned  the  money,  remarking  that  he  had  earned 
fifty  cents  that  day  mowing  lawns  and  chopping 
wood.  He  continued  to  frequent  the  mission,  a 
changed  man.  After  moving  to  the  studio  I  lost 
sight  of  him  almost  entirely,  but  often  wondered 
what  had  become  of  him. 

There  came  a  time  toward  the  close  of  my  so- 
journ in  San  Jose  when  I  was  financially  down 
to  bedrock.  Money  and  provisions  were  all  gone. 
My  rent,  to  be  sure,  was  paid  up  to  the  first  of 
the  month  (three  weeks  hence),  but  my  cupboard 
was  bare.  A  friend  partook  with  me  of  my  last 
meal.  Little  did  she  realize  it,  or  she  would  never 
have  stayed  at  my  invitation.  /  told  only  my  heav- 
enly Father.  After  supper  I  went  home  with  her, 
about  three  blocks  distant.  It  was  a  beautiful 
moonlight  night,  and  as  I  came  up  the  garden 
walk  on  my  return,  I  noticed  a.  good-sized  box 
resting  on  my  steps,  but  simply  thought  the  chil- 


358  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

dren  must  have  been  playing  there  and  had  failed 
to  take  it  away  after  they  had  finished.  I  at- 
tempted to  thrust  it  to  one  side,  but  discovered 
that  it  was  too  heavy.  Looking  more  closely, 
I  could  read  my  name  on  a  card.  With  consider- 
able efPort  I  lifted  it  into  the  room,  pried  off  a 
portion  of  the  cover,  and  was  soon  reading  a  note 
which  said: 

Dear  Friend: 

Please   accept   a   slight    token    of    appreciation 
from  one  who  is 

Your   true   friend. 

From  whom  did  this  come.''  The  crude  hand- 
writing was  not  at  all  familiar.  I  wondered,  but 
in  vain.  Then  I  lifted  up  the  paper  cover.  The 
box  was  filled  with  groceries.  Not  even  butter  and 
bread  had  been  forgotten;  also  there  were  some 
fruit  and  vegetables.  I  fell  on  my  knees,  the  tears 
falling  fast  as  I  humbly  thanked  God  and  prayed 
him  to  bless  the  donor.  I  had  told  no  one.  Who 
could  have  sent  it?  Inquiry  the  next  day  of  sev- 
eral groceries  failed  to  throw  any  light  on  the 
matter.  I  had  to  give  it  up,  but  oh,  how  I  appre- 
ciated and  enjoyed  the  contents  of  that  box,  which 
lasted  me  until  my  time  at  the  studio  expired. 

I  stored  my  few  effects  with  a  friendly  furniture 
man.  Whilst  walking  down  Santa  Clara  Street 
near  Market,   I   came   face  to   face  with   Brother 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  859 

Louis,  the  converted  drunkard.  He  certainly 
was  looking  his  best.  As  he  greeted  me,  he 
said : 

"Mother  Roberts,  I  was  on  my  way  to  call 
on  you." 

"I've  moved  this  very  day.  Brother,"  I  replied, 
"but  I'm  so  glad  I  met  you.  Where  have  you 
been  ?" 

He  had  been  working  out  of  town.  To  honor 
God  and  also  to  help  strengthen  his  faith,  I  re- 
lated His  care  for  me  through  all  the  trying  times. 
I  spoke  about  my  being  out  of  provisions  and  then 
finding  them  on  my  doorsteps,  adding: 

"To  this  day  I  haven't  found  out  who  sent 
them." 

The  expression  that  came  over  his  countenance 
instantly  betrayed  him. 

"Brother  Louis,"  I  said,  "you  sent  that  box." 

"No,  Mother  Roberts,  I  didn't,"  he  replied;  "I 
brought  it,  and  I'll  tell  you  why.  I  read  in  the 
paper  that  when  you  quit  Beth-Adriel  you  only 
had  sixty  dollars  of  your  own.  I  calculated  that 
couldn't  last  very  long.  I  knew  you  wouldn't  take 
money,  and  I  wanted  to  express  my  gratitude 
in  some  way ;  so  I  decided  groceries  would  not  come 
amiss  to  one  who  was  doing  light  housekeeping. 
I  didn't  knock  on  your  door,  because  I  thought 
you  were  in  and  what  a  surprise  it  would  be  when 


360  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

you  opened  it  in  the  morning.  I  hope  you  aren't 
offended  at  what  I  did." 

"Brother  Louis,  don't  you  realize  that  God  used 
you  to  answer  my  prayer?"  I  rejoined.  "He 
knew  my  needs,  and  laid  it  on  your  heart  to  sup- 
ply them." 

I  do  not  know  where  he  now  is,  but  I  earnestly 
pray  that  God  may  bless  and  prosper  this  kind- 
hearted  man  and  finally  receive  him  into  glory. 

Still  farther  down  the  street,  near  Second,  I 
suddenly  thought  I  heard  some  one  calling  my 
name.  Again  it  was  called,  and  I  turned  to  find 
a  Mr.  Parkhurst,  an  old  gentleman,  endeavoring  to 
overtake  me.  He  wished  to  let  me  know  that  his 
wife,  one  of  my  valued  friends,  was  very  ill,  and 
to  inquire  if  I  knew  of  any  one  who  could  come 
to  their  home  and  care  for  her  a  few  days,  at 
least  imtil  she  was  somewhat  recovered.  Instantly 
I  felt  that  God  was  providing  a  temporary  shelter 
for  me;  therefore  I  unhesitatingly  replied: 

"I  myself  will  go,  Mr.  Parkhurst." 

"What  you!  But  are  you  not  too  busy?"  he 
asked. 

"Not  just  at  present,"  I  answered.  "Besides, 
I  gave  up  my  studio  this  very  day  and  therefore 
am  quite  free  to  go." 

Their  appreciation  was  such  that  a  few  days 
later  I  was  invited  to  make  this  lovely  home  min^ 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  S61 

or  at  least  headquarters,  which  very  kind  offer  was, 
in  the  name  of  our  wonderful  Provider,  gratefully 
accepted. 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  WITH  THE  OUTCAST.  363 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

A  TRIP  EAST — I  ESCAPE  FROM  A  CONFIDENCE 
WOMAN. 

After  I  had  enjoyed  the  freedom  of  the  Park- 
hurst  home  for  a  few  months  I  learned  through 
friends  that  a  young  lady  whom  I  had  befriended 
at  the  time  of  the  earthquake  and  who  had  be- 
come temporarily  deranged  was  about  to  be  sent  to 
the  East.  The  supervisors  inquired  whether  it 
would  suit  my  convenience  to  take  the  trip,  and 
said  if  so  they  would  defray  expenses  from  and 
to  California  in  order  to  have  her  safely  chaper- 
oned. I  gladly  consented;  for,  praise  God!  this 
would  give  me  opportunity  to  pay  a  brief  visit 
to  my  son  and  his  bride,  now  making  their  home  is 
Allegheny,  Pa. 

Following  her  safe  arrival,  I  was  on  the  way 
to  Cincinnati  in  less  than  twenty-four  hours. 
Thence  I  was  to  take  train  early  the  next  morning. 
Having  several  hours  to  dispose  of  after  secur- 
ing a  room  in  a  hotel  close  to  the  station,  I  decided 
to  see  as  many  points  of  interest  as  possible  in 
this  fine  city.  Accordingly  I  was  thus  delight- 
fully occupied  until  about  four  o'clock,  when  I 
heard  some  one  speak  of  the  Zoo.  Upon  inquiry 
I  learned  of  the  wonderful  gardens  so  called.  Soon, 
following  directions,  I  boarded  a  car  at  Fountain 


364  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

Square,  which  conveyed  me  up  a  very  steep  in- 
cline. Returning  in  the  neighborhood  of  six 
o'clock,  I  followed  the  example  of  several  persons, 
who  on  the  incline  stepped  out  of  the  car  on  to 
the  platform  in  order  to  enjoy  the  magnificent 
view. 

A  white-haired,  elderly  lady  who  had  sat  oppo- 
site to  me  on  the  return  trip,  now  pleasantly  re- 
marked : 

"Cincinnati  is  well  worth  a  visit,  is  it  not.''" 

Upon  my  replying  in  the  affirmative,  she  re- 
joined: 

"Doubtless  you  are  a  stranger.  May  I  inquire 
from  whence  you  come?" 

"From   California,"    I   answered. 

She  clasped  her  hands  together  and  exclaimed 
ecstatically : 

"Dear,  dear  California !  How  happy  I  am  to 
meet  some  one  from  there!  Some  of  my  most  de- 
lightful, very  happiest  days  were  spent  there." 

We  were  now  once  more  in  the  car  and  at  the 
foot  of  the  incline. 

Presently  she  continued,  "Are  you  going  to  re- 
main for  some  time  here?  If  so,  I  shall  be  de- 
lighted to  contribute  to  your  pleasure." 

I  then  informed  her  of  my  prospective  visit  to 
my  son  and  his  wife. 

Her  next  question  was,  "Pardon  me,  but  have 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  365 

you  any  dinner  engagement?      If  not,  dine  with 

me  at 's  restaurant,  unless  you  have  choice  in 

the  matter,  in  which  case  I  gladly  defer  in  your 
favor." 

She  had  handed  me  her  card,  and  of  course 
common  courtesy  required  that  I  reciprocate. 

At  the  table  I  quietly  (though  not  by  request) 
returned  thanks,  and  then  followed  this  up  with 
the  message  that  the  Master  had,  in  answer  to 
silent  prayer,  laid  on  my  heart. 

Her  patronizing  smile  was  rather  disconcerting 
as  she  responded: 

"My  dear,  I  am  much  older  and  have  had  much 
more  real  experience  than  you.  I've  come  in  touch 
with  every  phase  of  humanity,  and  have  at  last 
reached  the  place  where  I  have  decided  to  get  all 
I  can  out  of  life — all  the  fun,  all  the  pleasure 
possible.  I  once  thought  and  felt  as  you  do.  You'll 
get  over  it  when  you  have  had  a  few  hard  knocks 
to  contend  with.  Take  my  advice.  Enjoy  your- 
self every  day  and  hour,  and  as  much  as  you 
can." 

"I  do,"  was  my  reply.  "I  would  not  exchange 
the  experience  of  the  past  decade  for  all  the 
former  years  of  worldly  dissipation  and  pleasure 
put  together.  They  have  all  been  unsatisfactory. 
This  is  quite  the  opposite,  and,  better  still,  it  is  the 
enjoyment  of  indescribable  peace  and  delight.  You 


866  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

are  not  going  to  be  much  longer  in  this  world. 
Mrs.  R — — ,  I  beg  of  you  to  seek  the  Lord  whilst 
he  may  still  be  found.  It  is  not  too  late,  but  soon, 
yes,  very  soon  it  may  be.  Then  where  will  you 
spend  eternity.^" 

Her  lips  curled  with  a  sinister,  contemptuous 
sneer.  Nevertheless  she  managed  to  smile  as  she 
resorted  to  repartee. 

"You  must  come  with  me  this  evening,"  she 
said.  "I  intend  to  take  possession  of  you  for  an 
hour  or  two,  and  give  you  a  good  time." 

"You  will  please  excuse  me  from  anything  of 
the  kind,"  was  my  quick  reply.  "I  have  long 
ceased    to   enjoy   worldly   amusements." 

Just   then   the   waitress   came   with   the   cheque. 

"One  or  two.''"  she  inquired. 

"Two,"  promptly  replied  Mrs.  R — • — . 

I  politely  wished  her  good  evening  as  we  stood 
at  the  desk,  and  was  quickly  walking  away  when 
she  called  after  me. 

"Wait  a^  minute,"  she  said,  and  took  a  firm  hold 
of  my  arm  and  sleeve,  so  that  it  was  impossible 
to  free  myself  without  attracting  attention.  We 
were  now  on  the  street.  As  she  walked  beside 
me,  she  said: 

"You  may  not  think  so,  but  I  intend  to  do  you 
a  favor.  People  in  your  line  of  work  are  never 
blest  with  overmuch  of  this  world's  goods,  espe- 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  867 

cially  money.  I'm  going  to  take  you  witk  me 
across  the  bridge  [into  Kentucky]  to  the  house  of 
one  of  my  friends  and  win  a  stake  for  you.  You 
needn't  touch  a  card  vmless  you  want  to.  Now 
don't  be  afraid  to  trust  me,  because  — ♦— ." 

Before  she  had  hardly  finished  speaking,  I  sud- 
denly tore  away  from  her  grasp,  ran  down  the 
block  to  the  corner,  and  boarded  a  passing  car, 
not  caring  where  it  took  me,  so  anxious  was  I  to 
get  away  from  this  female  gambler,  this  confidence 
woman. 

Why  did  I  not  have  her  arrested?  First,  be- 
cause I  had  already  purchased  my  ticket  for  my 
journey  to  Pittsburg,  and  secondly,  because  her 
private  conversation  with  me  would  not  have  war- 
ranted me  in  so  doing.  Moreover,  I  knew  that 
the  all-seeing  eye  of  God  was  taking  cognizance 
of  her  actions  as  well  as  of  mine.  He  protected 
me,  and  you  may  rest  assured  that  she  and  her 
kind  will  not  go  unpunished. 

Why  have  I  told  you  this?  In  order  to  show 
that  it  is  not  only  the  young  girls  and  youth  who 
are  in  danger,  but  also  the  more  mature,  even  the 
rescue  missionary.  It  therefore  behooves  us  to 
be  constantly  in  an  attitude  of  watchfulness  and 
prayer,  for  Satan  goes  about  in  all  manner  of 
garbs  seeking  whom  he  may  devour.  Nothing 
could  better  please  him  than  to  overpower  or  side- 


368  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

track  one  of  the  children  of  God,  more  particularly 
a  missionary. 

I  took  a  long  round-trip  ride  on  that  car,  my 
heart  overflowing  with  gratitude  to  the  heavenly 
Father  for  having  made  the  way  of  escape  (1  Cor. 
10:  13).  It  was  after  nine  o'clock  before  I  reached 
my  hotel.  I  wondered,  as  I  retired,  who  would 
be  the  next  to  be  victimized  by  that  runner  for 
a  private  gambling-house.  I  fell  asleep  with  earn- 
est prayer  for  the  deliverance  of  whosoever  it 
might  chance  to  be,  and  for  God  to  deal  speedily 
with  all  such  agents  of  the  evil  one. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  860 

CHAPTER  XL. 

MY    HOMEWARD    JOURNEY — LAND    FOR    THE 
TRAINING    SCHOOL    AND    HOME. 

After  a  delightful  five  days'  visit  with  my  son 
and  his  bride  I  was  soon  back  in  Calif omia^  both 
ready  and  eager  to  transact  business  for  the  Mas- 
ter's kingdom. 

Anybody  who  has  traveled  on  a  tourist  car  can 
readily  understand  that,  even  though  one  may  not 
be  prying  or  curious,  one  is  apt  to  learn  more  or 
less  of  its  other  occupants,  particularly  those  in 
the  adjoining  sections;  and  be  the  porter  ever  so 
watchful,  he  can  not  cope  with  every  suspicious 
situation. 

Being  a  rescue  missionary,  I  particularly  yet 
secretly  kept  a  watchful  eye  over  a  girl  just  gradu- 
ated with  honors  from  a  school  in  the  old  coun- 
try and  now  about  to  join  some  relatives  at  a  point 
near  San  Francisco;  for  she  was  fast  succumbing 
to  the  influence  of  a  woman  with  whom  some  of 
the  opposite  sex  seemed  very  familiar,  consider- 
ing the  fact  that  the  latter  was  as  much  a  stranger 
to  them  (when  first  we  started  out)  as  she  was 
to  me.  Besides,  the  pretty  young  graduate  evidently 
was  a  very  guileless,  convent-raised  girl.  Matters  as- 
sumed such  a  condition  at  the  close  of  the  third 
day  of  our  journey  that  I  felt  it  incumbent  uptm 


370  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

me  to  invite  the  latter  into  my  section  for  the 
sake  of  some  friendly  advice.  She  appeared  to 
take  it  all  in  good  part  and  promised  to  act  upon 
it.  Had  she  done  so,  I  should  not  now  be  relating 
that  before  the  end  of  the  next  twenty-four  hours 
I  was  subjected  to  most  unkind,  uncalled-for  criti- 
cism from  nearly  all  the  occupants  of  that  car, 
mostly  young  people.  The  schoolgirl  was  foolish 
enough  to  betray  every  word  of  our  conversa- 
tion to  the  older  woman,  whose  actions  that  same 
night  were  such  that  the  porter  had  to  interfere. 
Notwithstanding  the  unkind  treatment  accorded 
me,  I  still  continued  privately  to  chaperon  the  girl 
until  she  reached  her  destination  where  she  was, 
thank  God,  welcomed  at  the  depot  by  her  relatives. 
That  porter  told  me  that  he  had  constantly  to 
be  on  the  lookout  for  questionable  characters  of 
both  sexes,  who  made  it  their  business  to  travel  back 
and  forth  continuously  in  search  of  victims  to  rob 
or  aid  them  in  plying  their  nefarious  trades,  but 
that  some  acted  so  sanctimoniously,  as  in  this  case, 
that  they  were  rather  hard  to  detect.  I  have  no 
doubt  that  this  adventuress  obtained  the  young 
girl's  address,  so  that  the  acquaintance  could,  a 
little  later  on,  be  renewed  in  order  that  some  of 
this  woman's  accomplices,  if  not  herself,  could  se- 
cure this  another  victim  for  the  white  slave  traf- 
fie. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  371 

Moral:  Parents  and  guardians,  secure  reliable 
chaperons  for  your  young  people  to  travel  with, 
or  else  keep  them  at  home  pending  such  times 
as  they  can  be  accompanied  by  you  or  trusted 
friends. 

A  letter  from  a  wealthy  pioneer  with  whom  I 
had  had  several  interviews  respecting  land  for  a 
training  school  and  home  now  sent  me  word  that 
he  had  decided  to  donate  six  acres  for  that  pur- 
pose, provided  I  should  secure  pledges  to  the 
amount  of  thirty  thousand  dollars  for  building 
purposes.  The  undertaking  looked  stupendous; 
nevertheless,  what  was  to  hinder  if  this  were  the 
plan  of  God? 

At  his  invitation,  I  shortly  went  to  inspect 
the  land,  then  in  grain.  The  tract  was  hardly  as 
much  as  was  requisite  for  horticultural  purposes 
and  a  large  home,  but  the  situation  was  charming; 
so,  without  consulting  any  one  as  to  the  nature  of 
the  soil,  I  promised  to  do  my  utmost  to  earn  a  quit 
title  to  the  land.  I  worked  indefatigably  for  sev- 
eral months  before  being  able  to  secure  a  promis- 
sory deed,  but  finally,  after  much  effort  and  persua- 
sion, I  succeeded  in  obtaining  the  latter.  Then  I 
worked  harder  than  ever.  Two  years  were  spent 
in  this  wise.  Everything  pointed  to  ultimate  suc- 
cess.     A    board    of    representative    business    men 


872  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

was  secured  in  order  to  meet  legal  requirements. 
By  faith  I  now  saw  the  beautiful,  practical  home 
for  delinquent  and  dependent  children  looming  up 
in  the  very  near  future. 

One  day  whilst  on  my  way  southward  I  was 
telling  an  acquaintance  of  my  hopes  and  also  show- 
ing her  the  plans.  Presently  a  gentleman  sitting 
immediately  back  of  us  thus  addressed  me: 

"Pardon  me,  madam,  but  I  can  not  refrain  from 
hearing  part  of  your  conversation,  also  seeing  your 
plans."  (With  that  he  handed  me  his  card.)  "For 
over  twenty-two  years  I  was  a  resident  of  the 
place  where  you  propose  to  build  that  home,"  he 
continued,  "and  I  know  every  foot  of  its  soil. 
Would  it  be  asking  too  much  of  you  to  inquire  just 
where  those  six  acres  are  located?" 

Upon  his  receiving  the  desired  information,  he 
said: 

"I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  it.  I  regret  to  have 
to  inform  you  that  it  is  absolutely  useless  for  horti- 
cultural purposes.  It  is  worked  out,  having  been  in 
grain  for  at  least  forty  years ;  besides,  it  is  gravelly 
soil  with  clay  bottom.     I  do  not  ask  you  to  take 

my  word  for  this.     Inquire  of •  — ' —  or  any  of 

the  reputable  business  men.  It  is  too  bad  that 
you  should  have  had  so  much  work  for  nothing." 

Reader,  endeavor  if  you  can,  to  put  yourself 
in  my  place  at  this  moment.     Through  indescrib- 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  378 

able  toil  I  had  procured  nearly  ten  thousand  dol- 
lars in  pledges,  though,  thank  God,  I  had  collected 
no  money.  So  this  distressing  information  almost 
stunned  me.  Thanking  the  gentleman,  I  prom- 
ised, at  his  earnest  solicitation,  to  satisfy  myself 
beyond  a  doubt. 

What  he  said  was  all  too  true.  For  a  few  days 
the  effects  of  the  confirmation  of  this  stranger's 
statements  almost  prostrated  me.  I  humbly  thank 
God,  however,  that  this  experience  was  the  means 
of  His  getting  me  into  a  place  where  He  could 
have  a  chance  to  talk  to  me.  He  told  me  that  zeal 
for  His  house  had  well-nigh  eaten  me  up  and  that 
what  was  lacking  was  a  need  of  more  watchfulness 
and  prayer  on  my  part.  Also,  he  assured  me  that 
notwithstanding  another  crushing  disappointment, 
the  home  would  be  built,  but  not  in  the  manner 
anticipated;  that  the  silver  and  gold,  "the  cattle 
on  a  thousand  hills,"  everything,  everywhere  was 
His.     The  wound  eventually  began  to  heal. 

During  this  trying  time,  whilst  I  was  one  day 
conferring  with  Lieutenant-Governor  Porter,  a 
lady  came  into  his  oflSce,  to  whom  he  immediately 
introduced  me.  Acknowledging  the  introduction 
with  a  very  warm  handshake  and  a  sweet  smile, 
Mrs.  Tallman  Chittenden,  of  Chittenden,  Santa 
Cruz  County,  said:  "Mrs.  Roberts,  for  a  long 
time  I  have  heard  or  read  of  you.     I  so  much  de- 


374  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

sire  to  know  you.  Can  you  not  return  to  my  home 
with  me  today?  My  husband  will  be  as  pleased 
as  I  to  have  you  for  our  guest."  (They  owned 
one  of  the  most  beautiful,  picturesque  estates  in 
Santa  Cruz  County.  The  Southern  Pacific  passes 
through  their  magnificently  cultivated  grounds.)  Ex- 
pressing my  regrets,  owing  to  having  an  urgent  call 
from  the  probation  officer  of  the  juvenile  court  of 
Santa  Cruz  City,  I  promised  to  visit  them  on  the 
return  trip — a  promise  that  I  carried  out  on  the 
following  evening.  Soon  I  was  made  to  realize  that 
God  was  adding  two  more  to  the  list  of  true  and 
tried  friends;  for  after  learning  the  nature  of  my 
recent  disappointment  and  that  I  did  not  now 
have  any  settled  abiding-place,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Park- 
hurst  having  removed  to  Washington,  they  cor- 
dially invited  me  to  consider  their  lovely  home 
mine  also  indefinitely. 

This  kindness  overwhelmed  me  with  gratitude. 
Rest  at  last,  real  rest  for  the  body  as  well  as  for 
the  soul;  but  it  was  not  for  long.  The  calls  ac- 
cumulated thick  and  fast,  and  again  I  had  to  be 
up  and  doing.  But  even  to  this  day  (unless  the 
place,  which  is  for  sale,  has  passed  into  other 
hands)  I  am  at  liberty  any  hour  of  the  day  or 
night  to  avail  myself  of  the  freedom  and  the  home 
comforts  of  lovely  Chittenden,  where  a  most  cordial 
greeting  has   ever   been  mine   from  the   generous 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  875 

hostess  and  her  friendly  husband.  Thus  God  is 
ever  providing  his  chosen  ones  with  what  he  has 
promised;  for  has  not  he  said  in  Psa.  84:  11,  "The 
Lord  is  a  sun  and  shield;  the  Lord  will  give  grace 
and  glory:  no  good  thing  will  be  withhold  from 
them  that  walk  uprightly"?  He  always  knows 
best.  He  never  closes  one  door  but  that  he  opens 
a  better  one.  It  pays  to  stand  still,  to  be  true 
to  him. 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  WITH  THE  OUTCAST.  377 

CHAPTER   XLI. 

I    CALL    ON    THE    GOVERNOR    AND    THEN    GO 
SOUTH. 

Acting  upon  the  suggestion  of  several  sympa- 
thetic, interested  friends,  who  realized,  with  me, 
the  great  necessity  for  "the  ounce  of  prevention 
home  and  school"  for  many  of  the  rising  genera- 
tion, I  took  a  special  trip  to  Sacramento  in  order 
to  submit  specifications  and  plans  to  Governor 
Gillett,  then  in  office. 

This  was  not  our  first  meeting;  therefore  I  was 
by  no  means  a  stranger  to  the  Governor,  who 
very  kindly  and  cordially  received  me.  Almost  his 
first  words  were,  "Time  being  at  a  premium  with 
me,  tell  me  what  I  can  do  for  you."  In  as  few 
words  as  possible  the  story  of  effort  and  appar- 
ent though  not  total  failure  was  being  poured  into 
his  attentive  ears.  Presently,  to  my  great  joy, 
he  replied: 

"Mrs.  Roberts,  this  has  been  a  pet  project  of 
mine  for  many,  many  years.  All  I  have  lacked 
was  the  time,  means,  and  assistants  to  carry  it  into 
execution.  Let  me  tell  you  something  for  your 
encouragement:  right  now  I  am  considering  certain 
offers  of  land  for  just  such  a  purpose.  No  paltry 
six  acres  for  it  either,  but  three  hundred  or  more. 
I  hope  soon  to  see  this  vitally  important  and  ab- 


878  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

solutely  necessary  plan  receive  the  approbation  of 
our  next  legislative  session,  and  an  appropriation 
made  for  the  purchase  of  a  large  tract  of  land,  to- 
gether with  necessary  and  suitable  buildings.  I 
know  you  have  been  working  very  hard.  Do  not 
nurse  disappointment  any  longer;  instead  join  me 
feeling  assured  of  the  future  welfare  and  main- 
tenance of  the  delinquent  and  dependent  children 
of  our  State." 

Much  more  did  he  encourage  me,  but  the  above 
was  the  sum  and  substance.  Lighter  hearted  than 
I  had  felt  for  many  days,  I  now  took  more  interest 
than  ever  in  the  rescue  work.  In  response  to  a  call 
I  hurried  to  southern  California,  where,  with  oth- 
ers, I  engaged  in  the  Master's  service  in  seek- 
ing and  warning  the  lost,  working  from  San  Diego 
on  up  the  coast. 

Perhaps  it  would  be  advisable  at  this  time  to 
quote  from  the  report  made  in  the  San  Diego  Sun 
of  July  14,  1908. 

iiow   DAirci:-HAiii.s,   cuBsz:   of   tse   cxtt. 

Mrs.  Florence  Roberts,  known  throughout  the  State 
as  "Mother  Roberts,"  who  has  been  in  this  city  for 
two  weeks  in  the  interests  of  fallen  humanity  has 
visited  the  red  light  district  of  this  city.  One  con- 
clusion that  she  draws  is  this:  "The  dance-hall  is  an 
abomination  that  must  gro.  It  is  more  degrading  than 
any  other  form  of  dissipation.  The  future  of  the 
State  is  being  ruined.  The  young  men  are  being  de- 
graded past  redemption;  the  young  women,  especially 
working  girls,  are  in  danger." 


SOME  MOTHER'S  WANDERING  GIRL. 

Words  and  Music  by  Mrs.  Florence  Roberts. 


^^ 


^ 


iS 


1.  Some  one  knocked  at  the        door  to  -  day 

2.  "No  -  bod  -  y         cares  for         me,"  she    cried, 

3.  Some  one      pil  -  lows  her  head     on  my    breast, 

4.  Je  -  sus    has    come,    he  is  call  -  ing  for     you; 


^ 


^ESEEt 


:* 


2E£ 


Of     a       gild     -     ed  pal  -  ace     of  sin.  And 

As   she     told         her  sto  -  ry      so  sad.  Of 

And       pours    in     my  lis     -      t'ning  ears  Her 

This       mes  -  sage  of  love     is     from  him:  "Tho'  your 


^ 


^=it 


si    -    lent  -    ly  prayed    for  that    wan  -  der  -  ing  girl, 

how     she      was  led       on  the       down    -    ward  path, 

sto   -    ry—    the  sad  -  dest  that     ev   -    er     was  told— 

sins      be        as  scar  -  let,  I'll    make  them   like  snow, 


^z ^,=^ 1 — sss-- ^ • 0 « — I — =^=5,.^ ^^sy- 


Who  bade         her     guest       come  in. 

And  be  -  reft  of      all    that    she  had. 

And    I  can  -  not    re  -  frain     from  tears 

And  help   you  new  life     to      be    -  gin." 


As     I 
So    the 


=1^ 


^-h-TT- 


^ 


Some     one  un  -  known     to      that  er      -      ring     child, 

"Noth       -  ing       left    worth    the  liv        -      ing      for, 

lit    -     ten.  But       oh!      I've      a  mes  -  sage    so      sweet, 

beau  -    ti    -  ful       sto    -    ry      that  nev  -  er  grows    old, 


It 


S3 


^^ 


Had 

al 

so 

Oft    - 

times 

I 

A 

mes  -  sage 

es 

Ke  - 

peat  -  ed 

a 

en       -  tered  there:         The 

wish       I  were  dead;  But 

pe  -  cially  for  her—        And    I 

new  that  day.    Reached  this 


Some  Mother's  Wandering  Giri— Concluded. 


^m 


^i^ 


-jv 


m 


Sav  -  ior     with  in         -  vi    -   ta  -  tion     so  sweet 

oh!  the  thought    of  an        end      -      less  hell 

lov   -  ing  -   ly  tell      her  of        Je  -  sus,    my  Lord, 

poor  girl's  heart,    and  she's    cho  -  sen    that  part 


S^ 


^ 


i 


Has           called     with  his  mes  -       sen  -  ger 

Fills    my        wretch    -  ed  soul  with  dread.' 

Who  has    sent      me  his  way  to      pre  -  pare 

That  shaU  nev  -    er  be  ta  -  ken      a    -  way 

Refrain. 


j-   J   J'   J'  tfJ' 


IE 


-A- 


V    '  V 


On        some  moth  -  er's  wan 

'You're  some  moth  -  er's  wan 

For       this  moth  -  er's  wan 

From    this  moth  -  er's  wan 


der  - 

ing 

Jdrl 

der  - 

ing 

girl 

der  - 

ing 

girli 

der  - 

ing 

grirli 

i 


r— t-^: 


^ 


Some  moth  -  er's  wan  -  der  -  ing 

Some  moth  -  er's  wan  -  der  -  ing 

This  moth  -  er's  wan  -  der  -  ing 

This  moth  -  er's  wan  -  der  -  ing 


griri; 

With 

girl: 

Je  -  sus 

girl; 

He 

girl; 

The 

$ 


^m 


in         -  vi   -    ta  -  tion  of 

loves    you  so      well  that  for 

sore  -  ly  has     sent  me  his 

Sav  -  ior  has    found  her,  she 


par  -  don  and   peace 

you  he     died, 

way    to  pre  -  pare 

sits     at  his     feet. 


I 


^ 


For  some  moth  -  er's 
You're  some  moth  -  er's 
For  this  moth  -  er's 
No        Ion  -  ger      a 


wan  -  der  -  ing 

wan  -  der  -  ing 

wan  -  der  -  ing 

wan  -  der  -  ing 


girl, 
girl, 
girl, 
girl. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  38S 


Discussing:  her  observations  with  a  "Sun"  reporter, 
Mrs.  Roberts  said:  "I  visited  at  least  a  dozen  of  the 
saloon  dance-halls.  The  private  houses  would  not  ad- 
mit me,  not  knowing  who  I  was;  but  the  saloons  are 
of   course   public. 

"As  far  as  I  can  see,  the  traffic  is  not  organized  as 
it  is  in  most  places.  Each  saloon  seems  an  individual 
institution. 

"We  went  into  place  after  place,  dirty  and  squalid, 
most  of  them,  and  all  very  unattractive.  The  'glittering 
place  of  vice'  was  not  to  be  found;  merely  the  grirls, 
the  low  dance-music,  and  the  catering  to  every  bestial 
passion. 

MliN     ASHAKED. 

"Many  of  the  men  were  young.  Almost  all  were 
well  dressed  and  respectable  looking,  and,  thank  God, 
many  of  them  were  ashamed  when  we  came  in,  and 
pulled  their  hats  down  over  their  eyes.  W^e  saw,  not 
only  the  common  sailors,  but  the  officers,  the  men  who 
command  the  great  ships,  who  plan  and  direct  the 
battles  of  the  world,  parading  their  gold  braid  In 
these  dens  of  vice,  in  the  company  of  the  lowest. 

"The  indecent  postures,  the  short-skirted,  low-necked 
dresses,  the  sensual  dancing,  and  the  frequent  trips 
to  the  places  behind  the  saloons,  were  nauseating  and 
repulsive.  But  the  heart-sorrow,  the  sometimes  un- 
conscious longing  for  something  higher  and  better, 
showing  through  the  paint  and  powder,  the  hard, 
sinister  lines,  the  brazen,  defiant  eyes,  touched  my 
heart  with  the  awful  sorrow  of  it  all,  and  I  would  give 
all  I  possess  to  be  able  to  touch  them  and  to  help 
them. 

"I  said  to  one  poor  girl,  'Do  you  enjoy  this  life?' 

"  'Not  on  your  life,  lady,'  she  replied.  "We  drift  into 
it,    and    we   can't    see    the   way    out.' 

"Many  are  totally  resigned  to  the  life.  One  girl  said 
to  me  indifferently,  'I  don't  expect  ever  to  live  any 
other  life.     I'm  used  to  it,  and  it's  good  enough  now.' 

FOBCED    TO    IkEAVE. 

"In  one  place  the  barkeeper  allowed  me  to  sing  to 
the  girls,  but  just  in  the  middle  of  my  song,  the  pro- 


884  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

prletor  came  in  and  said  something-  in  a  gruff  voice  to 
the  barkeeper.  The  latter  came  over  to  me  and  apolo- 
getically said,   'Say,  lady,  the  boss  is  giving-  me  h 

for  allowing   this.     I   guess  you'll   have  to  quit.' 

"Two  of  the  girls  were  deeply  touched  by  what  I 
said  to  them.  I  spoke  of  the  wrong  influence  of  some 
kind  of  home  life. 

"  'You're  right,  lady.  That's  so.  It  was  that  way 
with  me.  I  was  started  wrong,  and  everybody  helped 
to  grease  the  hill  I  was  sliding  down,  and  I  soon 
reached   the  bottom.' 

"The  girls  are  decoyed  by  some  man  friend,  who  has 
so  compromised  the  girl  that  she  feels  she  is  being 
shunned,  to  the  house  of  a  'kind  woman  who  will  pro- 
tect her.'  She  is  ruined.  She  begins  smoking  and 
drinking  and  soon  unless  she  takes  great  care  of  her- 
self, she  is  sent  from  a  flrst-class  house  to  a  second 
class,  then  a  third  class,  then  lower  and  lower,  until 
she  ends  in  some  vile  dance-hall,  compared  to  which 
the  orthodox  hell  is  a  paradise.  Five  years  altogether 
is  the  average  life  in  this  business. 

NO-SCBEEN    IiAW. 

"One  thing  I  found  here  that  I  have  found  no- 
where else,  and  that  is  the  rigid  enforcement  of  the 
no-screen  law.  Everything  was  open.  I  shall  speak 
of  it  in  other  places.  And  then  the  law  forbidding 
the  sale  of  spirituous  liquors  means  so  much  to  the 
girls,  the  poor,  poor  girls,  who  are  so  bitter  against 
the  whole  world,  and  who  are  suspicious  of  every 
woman. 

"A  barkeeper  asked  me,  'Lady,  what  are  you  doing 
in  a  place  like  this?' 

"  'I  am  here  to  do  some  good  if  I  can.  I  am  a 
mother.' 

"  'Well,'  he  replied,  'this  is  no  place  for  decent  peo- 
ple.' 

"Just  then  a  rough-looking  customer  spoke  up,  'Don't 
you  leave  because  he  wants  you  to.  Do  all  the  good 
you  can.' 

"I  am  afraid  some  of  the  girls  thought  I  was  there 
out  of  mere  vulgar  curiosity.     No,  indeed.     I  have  seen 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  885 


the  worst  places  in  the  State,  I  have  visited  the  girls, 
talked  with  them,  eaten  with  them,  and  praise  God, 
have  helped  some  of  them  to  do  better." 

CBSXSTXAHITT. 

Mrs.  Roberts  has  no  use  for  so-called  Christianity 
that  forgets  the  virtue  named  charity.  She  tells  a 
story  of  a  young  girl  who  was  won  from  the  tender- 
loin by  a  Salvation  Army  lassie.  .  .  .  [Here  follows  the 
story  of  Dollie,  found  between  these  pages.  1 

WOBST    BESOBTS. 

"As  I  said  before,"  continued  Mrs.  Roberts,  "we 
visited  all  the  houses,  but  were  not  admitted  to  all. 
They  are  very  superstitious,  and  to  admit  visitors  on 
Monday  would  "hoodoo'  the  business  for  the  rest  of 
the  week.  None  of  the  houses  were  attractive.  We 
learned  the  nam©  of  only  one,  which,  the  girls  tell 
me,  is  the  worst  in  the  whole  district. 

"There  is  one  place,  though,  that  I  must  mention. 
It  is  most  attractive  with  lights,  mirrors,  and  music. 
But  I  assure  you  it  is  the  first  step  of  its  kind  down- 
ward.    [A  flrst-class  saloon.] 

"This  place  has  a  most  appropriate  electric  sign,  a 
winding,  twisting  snake. 

"There  is  one  thing  more  I  must  tell  you.  I  said 
to  a  young,  attractive-looking  boy,  "What  attracts  you 
her©?' 

"  'For  the  life  of  hie  I  can't  tell  you,  except  that 
there's  no  other  place  where  we  fellows  can  enjoy  our- 
selves.' 

"What  an  opportunity  for  an  immense,  well- 
equipped  reading-room,  where  the  boys  can  have  games, 
books,  and  all  sorts  of  harmless  amusements." 

Mrs.  Roberts  will  be  here  for  some  little  time,  and  she 
expects  to  speak  several  times  before  she  leaves.  She 
spoke  at  the  Central  Christian  church  yesterday  to  a 
large   audience. 

Among  other  things  at  this  meeting  I  men- 
tioned this  incident: 


386  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

In  one  of  the  Northern  towns,  the  chief  of 
police,  knowing  I  was  in  the  town,  sent  for  me  to 
confer  with  him  on  a  case  of  "strictest  privacy." 
Wondering  what  was  the  matter,  I  hastened,  and 
soon  was  hearing  this: 

"In  one  of  the  houses   on  Street,   I   have 

just  learned  from  one  of  my  men,  who  was  told 
by  a  near-by  saloon-keeper,  of  a  young  girl  inmate 
who  has  been  constantly  in  tears  for  the  past  two 
weeks,  a  new-comer  aged  about  sixteen.  I  want 
some  one  to  get  her  away  from  there.  My  politi- 
cal situation  is  such  at  the  present  time  that  it  will 
never  do  for  me  to  figure  in  this  matter;  at  the 
same  time  I  am  aware  if  you  are  conspicuous  in  it, 
those  doors  will  be  closed  upon  you,  and  that  will 
be  unwise,  seeing  these  landladies  are  more  or  less 
kindly  disposed  toward  you. 

"I  understand  this  girl  is  from  San  Francisco, 
where  she  has  a  mother,  who  ought  to  be  notified 
and  the  daughter  at  once  sent  home  to  her;  but 
I'm  in  a  quandary  how  to  proceed  so  as  not  to  in- 
cur ill-feeling  with  the  politicians  of  that  neigh- 
borhood. [He  was  a  candidate  for  reelection.] 
What  would  you  suggest?" 

Quickly  I  replied:  "If  that  landlady  does  not 
know  your  voice,  'phone,  asking  if  she  has  any 
new  girls  at  present?  Then  ask  her  to  send  the 
new  one  to  the   'phone.     If  she  does  so,  have  a 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  887 

talk  with  the  girl  of  a  nature  calculated  to  lead 
the  landlady  to  infer  you  are  friendly,  and  as 
soon  as  it  is  safe  to  do  so,  tell  her,  the  new  girl, 
that  she  is  to  come  out  presently  as  though  to  go 
to  a  restaurant  for  breakfast,  that  friends  are 
going  to  rescue  her  from  her  awful  predicament, 
but  that  she  must  be  very  cautious  for  fear  of  cre- 
ating suspicion.     Tell  her  to  look  on  the  corner  of 

Fourth  and  L Streets  for  a  lady  wearing  a 

small  black  bonnet  trimmed  with  white  and  to  fol- 
low her  into  the  building  where  she  sees  her 
disappear.  Tell  her  to  act  as  though  she  were 
making  arrangements  for  an  evening  engage- 
ment." 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  that  poor  child  was 
closeted  with  the  chief  and  me  in  his  private  of- 
fice. Soon,  after  reassuring  her,  he  left  us  alone 
in  order  that  I  could  freely  interrogate,  and  this, 
after  many  tears,  was  the  sum  and  substance  of 
what  she  told: 

"I've  a  very  comfortable  home,  a  dear  mama, 
and  two  little  brothers.  Perhaps  I  have  a  step- 
father now,  for  mama  was  intending  to  marry 
again.     He's  a  chef  in  Hotel." 

"Is  your  papa  long  dead,  dear?"  I  inquired. 

Papa  isn't  dead.  Mama  got  a  divorce  from 
him  a  little  while  ago.  He  wouldn't  support  us 
— ■ — '  and  — I — ." 


388  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

"Has  your  mama  known  this  chef  very  long?"  I 
asked. 

"Oh,  yes,  quite  a  while.  I  never  saw  much  of 
him  though,  'cause  Mama  would  rather  I  wasn't 
around  when  he  called;  so  she  often  used  to  let 
me  go  to  the  nickelodeon  or  the  dance  with  some 
of  the  girls  I  know,  when  she  expected  him  to 
spend  the  evening." 

"Hiow  did  it  happen  you  came  here,  my  child?" 
was  the  next  question. 

"It  was  this  way.  I  got  acquainted  with  a 
fine-looking  young  lady,  a  swell  dresser,  too,  at 
— ' — 'Hall.  We  took  a  'shine'  to  each  other  on 
sight,  and  I  asked  her  to  call  on  me,  'cause  I 
wanted  Mama  to  meet  her.  Mama  liked  her,  too. 
She  told  us  she  lived  with  her  aunt.  Miss  Clark, 
on  Post  Street,  who  was  quite  nicely  fixed.  Said 
she  must  take  me  to  see  her  soon. 

"Well,  we  met  often  after  that,  and  Mama  was 
pleased  because  I  now  had  a  companion  old  enough 
to  take  good  care  of  me.  One  day  when  I  went  home 
with  Tessie,  to  take  tea,  her  aunt  said  to  her,  'I've 
just  received  a  letter  from  Louise,  and  she  wants 
to  know  when  you  are  coming  to  make  her  a  visit.' 
Tessie  said,  'Oh,  I'd  like  to  go  next  week.  Mamie, 
I  wonder  if  you  couldn't  come,  too?  Louise  is 
my  cousin;  she's  well  off,  and  will  give  us  a  good 
time.     You  ask  your  mama  and  I'll  write  Louise.' 


SOME  mother's  wandering  GIRL. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  889 

Mama  was  willing.  Tessie's  aunt  soon  got  an- 
other letter  saying  Cousin  Louise  would  be  pleased 
to  have  me  come,  so  we  made  arrangements.  I 
was  to  meet  Tessie  at  the  boat  Monday  morning 
at  ten  o'clock.  Mama  wasn't  very  well,  so  I  went 
down  alone  on  the  car  with  my  suitcase.  We'd 
bought  our  tickets  Saturday,  and  for  fear  of  acci- 
dents Tessie  gave  me  mine  for  safekeeping. 

"I  went  on  board  the  boat  and  waited  and 
waited,  but  up  to  the  last  minute  Tessie  didn't 
come,  but  a  messenger  boy  did — twith  a  note  say- 
ing her  aunt  was  sick,  but  for  me  to  go  and  she'd 
come  on  the  next  boat.  Louise  would  be  dressed — 
and  described  how  I  would  know  her,  for  she  was 
to  meet  us.  Tessie  never  came,  neither  did  her 
cousin.  This  woman  I'm  with  is  named  Louise, 
but  she  says  she  doesn't  know  Tessie.  I  don't 
know  what  to  make  of  it,  do  you?" 

Then  she  told  me  exactly  what  kind  of  life  she 
had  been  forced  to  lead  fq?  over  two  weeks,  and 
that  when  she  first  came  the  landlady  dictated  a 
letter  which  she  (Mamie)  wrote  to  her  mother. 

"As  big  a  lie  as  ever  was  told,"  said  Mamie; 
"but  I  had  to  do  as  Miss  Louise  said,  and  she 
mailed  it.  I  haven't  written  Mama  since,  'cause 
I  didn't  want  to  spoil  her  pleasure.  Guess  she's 
safely  married  now,  'cause  she  expected  to  be." 

"My  dear  child,"  I  said,  "will  yon  give  me  your 


390  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

San  Francisco  address,  your  mother's  name  and  ini- 
tials? You  are  going  home  on  the  next  steamer. 
I  am  going  to  have  her  meet  you  at  the  wharf. 
I  know  the  stewardess,  who  is  a  good  woman.  She 
will  not  let  you  out  of  her  sight  until  she  hands 
you  over  to  your  mother." 

Poor,  frail,  pretty,  little,  sixteen-year-old  Mamie 
wept  with  joy.  The  next  morning,  long  before  it 
was  time  to  sail,  she  was  safely  hidden  away  on 
board  the  steamer.  The  mother,  in  response  to  the 
telegram,  was  on  hand  when  the  ship  reached  the 
San  Francisco  wharf,  and  unless  she  is  different 
from  other  women  of  that  caliber,  she  can  not,  I 
think,  ever  forget  that  registered  letter,  in  which 
some  good  wholesome  advice  was  given  and  such 
motherhood  as  she  represented  was  so  scathingly 
denounced  as  to  upset  her  honeymoon.  Further- 
more, I  did  not  hesitate  to  inform  her  that  her 
little  daughter  was  both  physically  and  morally 
ruined  and  that  God  would  hold  her  (the  mother) 
and  her  alone  responsible.  Was  that  alLf"  No. 
The  right  persons  were  put  on  the  track  of  Tessie 
and  her  aunt.  Unfortunately,  however,  they  were 
never,  on  account  of  some  technicality,  made  to 
suffer,  aside  from  having  to  take  their  immediate 
departure.  However,  the  just  God  is  taking  cog- 
nizance of  all  these  things.  Nothing  escapes  him. 
"Vengeance  is  mine;  I  will  repay,  saith  the  Lord." 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  391 

Dear  reader,  I  generally  leave  my  audience  with 
a  heavy  load  on  my  heart.  Why.^  Because,  as 
other  public  workers  and  speakers,  I  find  few, 
very  few,  comparatively  speaking,  who  heed  the 
warnings  which  observation  and  practical  experi- 
ence have  prompted  me  to  give  out.  Once  as  I 
was  walking  out  of  a  church,  two  ladies  directly 
behind  me  were  conversing  on  the  address  just 
finished.  One  said  to  the  other,  "Weren't  you  im- 
mensely interested  in  those  dreadful  word-pictures 
from  real  life?"  "Yes,"  replied  the  other,  "but 
that  work  is  very  unpopular,  and  requires  pe- 
culiarly adapted  people,  entirely  different  from 
you  and  me."  I  silently  thanked  God  for  so  richly 
endowing  a  few  of  us  with  sufficiently  peculiar 
qualities  to  seek  for  wonderful,  priceless  jewels 
among  the  fallen  who,  through  lack  of  proper  home 
training  and  companionship,  have  taken  the  down- 
ward course.  Many  of  these  outcasts,  if  sought 
and  cared  for,  will  some  day  occupy  an  exalted 
place  in  the  Master's  kingdom. 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  WITH  THE  OUTCAST.  893 

CHAPTER  XLII. 

LOS    ANGELES    DANCE-HALLS    AND    OTHER 
PLACES. 

Well,  you  may  call  them  first-class  if  you  like; 
I  call  them  first-class  stepping-stones  to  an  ever- 
lasting hell.  Furthermore,  I  will  prove  my  state- 
ment. 

On  July  24  of  that  year  (1908)  I  was  again 
in  Los  Angeles.  As  usual,  I  was  interviewed,  this 
time  by  a  Times  editor.  Among  other  things  I 
made  mention  of  the  fact  that  many  mothers  did 
not  know  what  their  children  were  doing  after 
school-hours,  and  stated  that  such  women  had  bet- 
ter play  less  whist  and  give  their  children  more 
attention.  And  oh!  the  terrifying  iniquities  of  so- 
ciety. Do  you  know,  the  worst  enemy  a  girl  who 
has  fallen  into  error  has  is  her  own  sex.  Women 
simply  will  not  have  anything  to  do  with  her, 
and  that  is  what  keeps  the  world  back.  The 
cause?     Selfishness,  of  course. 

"Yes,  I  believe  there  are  too  many  marriages  of 
convenience.  And  oh!  the  dreadful  race  suicide 
that  I  know  is  going  on  around  me  on  every  hand. 
It  sounds  the  doom  of  the  American  race.  We  are 
indeed  on  the  downward  path." 

"Why  do  not  our  mothers  bring  up  their  girls 
in  a  full  knowledge  of  this  world  and  its  snares 


S94  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

for  young  and  faltering  feet,  instead  of  letting 
them    run    the   streets    and    meet   unknown   men?" 

"It  is  because  the  mothers  themselves  are  too 
often  unfit  for  the  divine  duties  of  motherhood. 
They  are  lacking  in  a  knowledge  of  what  makes 
for  the  best  life.  I  have  seen  so  much  of  it  that 
I  am  going  to  try  to  arouse  the  mothers  of  Los 
Angeles  at  a  special  meeting." 

The  different  dailies  kept  tab  of  "Mother  Rob- 
erts" for  some  time.  To  be  a  target,  a  cynosure, 
is  an  indescribable  cross  to  the  Christian;  but  some 
one  must  be  willing,  else  how  is  the  world  to  com- 
prehend the  situation? 

Among  other  things  said  in  the  mothers'  meet- 
ing were  these: 

"Too  many  mothers  will  not,  because  of  their 
false  modesty,  give  proper  instruction  to  their  chil- 
dren. Yes,  parents  fearfully  misrepresent  condi- 
tions to  their  boys  and  girls,  even  resorting  to  ab- 
solute falsehood.  Of  course  the  children  soon 
learn  the  facts,  and  instead  of  the  parents  and 
children  making  confidants  of  each  other,  both 
practise  deception.  When  girls  find  out  these 
things,  they  often  slip  away  to  their  downfall. 

"When  I  was  sixteen  years  of  age,  I  saw  in  a 
paper  an  advertisement  stating  that  an  elderly 
lady  wanted  a  young  lady  as  companion  and 
amanuensis.  The  advertisement  read  very  smoothly 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  895 

and  I  answered  it.  The  woman,  who  was  seem- 
ingly a  prepossessing,  lonely  old  woman,  inspected 
my  recommendations  and  at  once  engaged  me  on 
trial.  I  shortly  returned  to  her,  taking  with  me 
some  of  my  choicest  worldly  possessions;  but  be- 
fore I  had  been  with  her  twenty-four  hours,  some 
of  her  strange  actions  so  alarmed  me  that  on  the 
following  morning  I  made  the  excuse  at  the  break- 
fast table  of  wanting  to  go  to  my  boarding-place 
for  expected  mail,  promising  to  return  within  half 
an  hour.  After  I  had  told  the  family  of  my  ex- 
periences and  suspicions,  the  mother  would  not  al- 
low me  to  return  even  for  my  effects,  which  I 
have  not  seen  from  that  day  to  this.  It  turned 
out  that  I  was  only  one  of  about  forty  girls  who 
had  been  engaged  by  that  diabolical  woman  to  fill 
'positions  as  companions.*  I  am  very  thankful 
that  'the  way  of  escape'  had  been  made  for  me, 
and  though  feeling  badly  about  losing  my  belong- 
ings, I  agreed  with  my  friends  that  it  were 
better  to  avoid  notoriety  than  to  create  a  dis- 
turbance. 

"At  the  time  of  this  occurrence  (it  was  in  San 
Francisco)  I  had  but  recently  arrived  from  Eng- 
land, the  land  of  my  birth  and  breeding,  under 
the  protection  of  elderly  people,  who  consigned 
me  to  the  care  of  relatives  in  California.  As 
with   thousands   of  other   girls,   my   education   on 


396  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

certain  lines   had   been   badly  neglected.      I   was, 
alas !  too  unsophisticated. 

"In  after-years,  when  I  became  a  Christian 
in  spirit  as  well  as  in  name,  I  thanked  God  for  this 
early  experience,  which  has  enabled  me  to  sympa- 
thize with  those  who,  much  of  the  time,  are  more 
sinned  against  than  guilty  of  sinning,  and  who 
so  often  are  enticed  away  by  the  various  methods 
devised  by  unprincipled  beings  called  men  and 
women. 

SATAST   J,VJtX3   IN   TBE   WAXiTS. 

"Yes;  I  have  watched  them  dance  in  many 
places,  even  in  Los  Angeles.  Is  it  degrading,  de- 
moralizing.'' You  know  as  well  as  I  that  there  is 
nothing  uplifting,  nothing  of  a  good  moral  ten- 
dency, about  the  dance,  especially  the  waltz;  and 
I  saw  nothing  else  offered  than  the  waltz,  or  round 
dances  closely  resembling  it,  in  either  of  the  places 
I  attended  last  evening. 

"My  heart  sorely  ached  as  I  observed  mothers 
with  their  little  girls,  five  to  twelve  years  old,  al- 
lowing, aye,  even  encouraging  them  to  get  up  and 
waltz  on  the  same  floor  with  questionable  charac- 
ters. Evidently  there  is  little  or  no  need  of  intro- 
ductions. Both  sexes  anxiously  observe  who  are 
the  best  dancers,  and  soon  these,  though  perhaps 
total  strangers,  are  spinning,  sliding,  or  gliding 
about  together,  in  many  instances  in  a  close  em- 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  $97 

brace,  breast  to  breast,  and  cheek  to  cheek.  But 
they  must  dance/  they  'love  it  so.'  And  the  music! 
The  most  sensual,  the  most  alluring,  as  subtle  as  a 
wily  serpent,  and  just  as  harmful. 

"There  were  church-members  there;  mothers 
chaperoning  their  young  daughters;  mothers  who 
profess  to  be  following  in  the  footsteps  of  the  Re- 
deemer; mothers  who  have  promised  to  bring  up 
their  little  ones  in  the  way  Jesus  would  have  them. 

"In  a  few  instances  I  even  saw  fathers  waltzing 
with  their  own  little  girls  on  the  great  crowded 
dance-hall  floor  as  late  as  nearly  midnight.  'What !' 
you  say,  'surely  no  father  would  think  of  such  a 
thing.'  Perhaps  not;  perhaps  I  am  presuming. 
Perhaps  it  was  the  mother's  escort  to  the  ball  in 
each  instance.  I  don't  know.  This  I  do  know: 
Those  little  children  last  night  were  eager,  hungry, 
craving,  tireless  dancers.  O  merciful  God!  The 
pity  of  it,  the  pity  of  it! 

"I  observed  some  of  the  young  men.  The  con- 
tour of  some  of  their  heads  peculiarly  interested 
me.  To  be  sure,  you  could  not  tell  what  the  girls' 
heads  were  like  because  of  so  many  etceteras  bulg- 
ing out  all  over;  but  as  I  looked  at  many  of  the 
young  men's  heads,  I  was  not  long  in  deciding  that 
those  who  danced  the  most  gracefully  evidently 
had  the  hulk  of  their  brains  in  their  heels. 

"At  the  first  place  I  visited,  one  young  fellow 


398  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

walked  up  to  a  pretty  pompadoured,  short-skirted 
miss  who  stood  close  to  me  and  who  had  waltzed 
with  several  strangers,  and  asked  her  to  dance. 
She  refused  him.  Why.-*  He  smelt  too  strong  of 
whiskey  and  was  unsteady  in  his  gait,  but  she  did 
not  give  him  that  as  her  reason,  and  because  of  his 
persistence  she  soon  said  to  her  companions  (some 
other  young  girls),  'Come  on,  let's  go  down  to  — — 
— ■ — i;    there   isn't   enough    fun    here.'      It   was    no 


sooner  said  than  done.  I  also  left  for  this  other 
place,  where  I  found  hundreds  of  couples  dancing, 
and  many  refined,  pretty-looking  young  girls  sit- 
ting or  standing  around,  waiting  for  any  strange 
young  man  to  invite  them  on  to  the  floor  and  hug 
them  (oh  yes,  better  call  things  by  their  proper 
names) — hug  them  to  alluring  waltz-time. 

EVEN  ON  THE  XiOBD'S  DAT. 

"There  is  hour  after  hour  of  this,  day  after  day, 
night  after  night;  yes,  even  on  the  one  day  set 
apart  for  the  worship  of  our  Redeemer  and  Crea- 
tor, and  this  in  the  so-called  respectable  dance-hall. 
At  the  entrance  is  a  prominent  sign — 'Dancing 
every  night  including  Sunday.'  'No  bowery  dan- 
cing allowed.'  Tell  me  why  that  sign  if  the  dance 
is  strictly   respectable? 

"A  young  gentleman  made  this  comment  to  me: 
'You  won't  find  one  girl  in  a  hundred  today,  who 
is  not  fond  of  the  dance.' 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  899 

"  'Why?'  I  inquired. 

"  'Considering  their  training,  it  isn't  to  be  won- 
dered at/  he  answered. 

"  'What  training?'  I  questioned. 

"  'Because  their  mothers  loved  it  before  them, 
and  the  girls  do  not  hesitate  to  say  so.' 

"Another  young  man  said :  'I  can  take  advantage 
of  the  situation,  if  so  inclined,  every  time.  In- 
variably any  girl  who  dances  will  drink,  and  any 
girl  that  drinks  will  go  still  farther.' 

"One  girl  said:  'It  isn't  what  occurs  at  the 
actual  dance,  but  any  girl  that  dances  often  has  to 
fight  for  her  virtue,  almost  her  life,  after  the  dance 
— on  her  way  home.  Often  her  escort  takes  her 
only  part  of  the  way.  Yet,  "like  moths  that  court 
the  candle,"  even  though  we  know  that  death  and 
ruin  are  in  the  wake,  still  we  will  dance.' 

"Whoever  heard  of  any  man  worth  the  having, 
seeking  for  a  wife  and  the  future  mother  of  his 
children  in  a  ballroom? 

-WASNXZrO  TO  OXBI^S. 

"Let  me  quote  another  young  man:  'If  the  pure- 
minded  girls  with  whom  we  sometimes  are  dancing 
knew  our  thoughts,  they  would  never  put  a  foot 
on  the  ballroom  floor  again,  as  they  value  their 
lives;  but  lots  of  young  girls  don't  know  this,  and 
their  mothers  who  sometimes  chaperon  them,  don't 
suspect  us.     I  consider  the  dance-hall  even  worse 


400  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

than  the  saloon.    I'm  a  dancer  myself,  but  I  won't 
pay  serious  address  to  any  girl  who  dances.' 

"Have  matters  assumed  such  shape  that  we  can 
not  furnish  the  majority  of  the  present  genera- 
tion, pleasures  so  pure,  refining,  and  alluring  that 
the  dance  and  other  vices  may  not  be  relegated 
to  oblivion?  This  question  should  stir  the  inner- 
most recesses  of  the  souls  of  all  who  are  inter- 
ested in  the  welfare  of  the  young  people  of  today, 
be  they  young  or  old,  rich  or  poor.  The  next 
generation  is  cursed  already,  frightfully  cursed, 
unless  unusual  sacrifice  will  now  be  made.  There 
is  no  time  to  lose,  especially  on  the  part  of  those 
who  love  the  title,  'Soldier  of  the  Cross.' 

"  'Put  on  the  whole  armor  of  God.'  Go  where 
he  wants  you  to  go.  Do  what  he  wants  you  to  do. 
Be  what  he  wants  you  to  be,  in  thought,  in  word, 
in  deed,  even  though  it  may  mean  to  part  with  your 
very  life.  God  is  yearning  for  a  few  more  Calebs 
and  Joshuas  and  Daniels.  What  use  to  pray  'Thy 
Kingdom  Come,'  if  you  patronize  or  countenance 
places  where,  under  no  consideration,  could  you 
invite  the  One  you  profess  to  love  and  serve." 


WIITH    THE    OUTCAST.  401 

CHAPTER  XLIII. 

WOMAN    EMPLOYED    AT    DANCE-HALL 
TELLS   OF    MANY    PITFALLS. 

Whilst  contending  against  the  dance-hall  evil, 
I  received  a  note  asking  for  an  immediate  inter- 
view.     The    writer,    who    signed    her   own    name, 

stated  that  she  had  been  an  employee  in  's 

Dance-hall  (rated  as  one  of  the  exclusive  and  first- 
class  places)  and  that  she  believed  that,  under  the 
existing  circumstances,  my  granting  her  an  audi- 
ence, would  still  further  aid  the  cause,  as  she 
could  throw  much  light  on  the  subject. 

Soon  she  was  at  my  rooms,  also  a  reporter,  and 
the  following  is,  in  part,  what  she  had  to  say: 

"I  am  utterly  disgusted  with  dance-halls,  and 
am  determined  to  do  all  I  can  against  them.     Mr. 

C [her  husband]  and  I  came  here  from  New 

York   in    reduced    financial   circumstances,   and    I 

applied    for    and    obtained    a    position    at   's 

Dance-hall. 

"For  reasons  best  known  to  ourselves,  we  posed 
as  brother  and  sister,  pretending  my  husband  was 
in  the  East.  I  worked  there  only  fourteen  days, 
or  until  my  husband  secured  a  permanent  posi- 
tion, but  I  left  the  place  with  a  complete  knowl- 
edge of  the  disreputable  work  done  there  under 
the  guise  of  a  respectable  dance-hall.     I  do  not 


402  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

wish  to  be  mean  in  my  assertions,  but  the  facts  will 
bear  me  up  in  what  I  actually  saw  and  heard  dur- 
ing the  two  weeks  I  was  engaged  at 's  Dance- 
hall. 

"I  was  on  the  reception  committee  to  introduce 
the  lonesome  boys  to  the  charming  girls  for  the 
dances.  It  would  take  me  two  hours  to  state  the 
disgusting  features  I  saw  there. 

"The  manager  at  one  time  asked  me  to  drink 
whiskey  with  him.  I  told  him  that  I  was  not  in 
the  habit  of  indulging  and  that  if  I  should  get 
drunk  he  would  have  to  take  care  of  me,  to  which 
he  said,  'I  can  do  that  all  right.* 

"One  night  a  young  man  became  dead  drunk  in 
the  dance-hall,  in  full  view  of  the  dancers,  making 
a  disgusting  show  of  himself,  all  of  which  appar- 
ently passed  unnoticed  by  the  manager.  The 
friends  of  the  young  man  took  him  out  of  the  hall. 

"One  time  I  saw  a  young  girl  dancing  with  a 
young  man  who  was  trying  to  hide  a  whiskey  bot- 
tle, with  which  she  and  her  partner  appeared  to  be 
mixed.  All  this  was  supposed  to  be  in  plain  sight 
of  the  manager. 

"A  young  girl  on  duty  selling  tickets  asked  me 
to  bring  her  an  empty  glass  from  the  soda  foun- 
tain. A  young  man  took  it  and  filled  it  nearly 
full  with  brandy  and  passed  it  to  l!  e  girl.  She 
slyly  wrapped  her  handkerchief  arornd  it  to  hide 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  408 

the  brandy^  and  drank  it  as  if  drinking  a  glass  of 
water.     This  was  seen  by  several  by-standers. 

"It  makes  me  shudder  to  think  of  what  I  saw 
and  heard  in  that  hall.  One  young  girl  unused  to 
the  ways  of  the  world  was  taken  out  of  the  hall 
in  a  ruined  condition,  and  after  an  unlawful  surgi- 
cal operation  had  been  performed,  she  was  sent 
to  a  well-known  hospital.  She  was  the  victim 
of  a  prominent  lawyer  of  Los  Angeles. 

"One  night  last  week  the  manager  spoke  through 
a  megaphone,  during  the  intermission  of  the  dance, 
asking  everybody  to  sign  a  petition  he  had  pre- 
pared stating  that  the  place  was  properly  run, 
and  to  sign  it  in  order  that  he  could  continue  the 
dance-hall  business.  I  know  of  one  man  who  signed 
a  fictitious  name  to  the  petition,  with  the  remark 
that  others  were  doing  the  same,"  etc. 

She  told  much  more,  some  of  which  was  not  fit 
to  print,  but  surely  that  is  sufficient  from  her. 

I  was  able  one  night  to  show  a  reporter  that  no 
erroneous  statements  had  been  made.  On  the 
contrary,  he  was  shocked  as  he  noted  the  wily  de- 
pravity. His  attention  was  attracted  to  a  good- 
looking  young  man  who  had  slipped  one  of  the 
reception  committee  young  women  a  piece  of  money. 
Together  we  watched  the  outcome.  She  made  for 
a  pretty,  graceful  young  girl  just  leaving  the  dance- 
ring    and    whispered    audibly,    "There's    a    swell 


404  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

young  fellow  wants  to  have  the  honor  of  dancing 
with  you."  Before  the  girl  had  time  to  think  or 
answer,  he  was  right  on  hand,  saying,  "May  I 
have  the  pleasure  of  the  next  waltz?  My  name 
is  Jones."  Then  the  introducer  manufactured  a 
name  for  the  pretty  young  girl,  the  music  started 
up,  and  the  next  moment  she  was  gliding  over  the 
perfect  dancing-floor  in  the  embrace  of  this  strange 
fellow.  Is  that  all?  Not  by  any  means.  He  in- 
vited her  to  an  innocent  dish  of  ice-cream.  (If  a 
girl  does  not  accept  such  an  invitation,  but  she 
usually  does,  the  would-be  seducer  knows  she  is  a 
gold  mine  if  he  can  ever  secure  her,  and  he  works 
to  that  end.)  She  accepted.  We  watched  our  op- 
portunity, and,  between  dances,  when  no  one  was 
taking  notice,  we  whispered  the  word  of  warn- 
ing. For  a  moment  she  looked  alarmed,  but  did 
she  heed?  Evidently  not.  Possibly  she  resented 
the  well-meant  advice,  and,  in  consequence,  soon 
paid  the  fearful  price  for  so  doing. 

Upon  getting  out  once  more  into  the  fresh  air, 
we  could  not  fail  to  observe  the  many  automo- 
biles in  waiting.  Wherefore?  Listen!  Shortly 
before  this  visit  when  I  was  accompanied  by  the 
Times  reporter,  I  was  a  temporary  guest  in  one 
of  Los  Angeles'  representative  families,  the  mother 
of  whom  was  one  of  my  tried  and  true  friends. 
She  had  two  noble,  handsome  sons.     One  of  them 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  405 

came  home  one  day  in  a  high  state  of  indigna- 
tion. After  he  had  related  to  his  mother  an  in- 
cident that  had  just  occurred,  she  besought  him  to 
repeat  it  for  my  benefit. 

While  he  was  resting  in  the  park  bounded  by 
Fifth,  Sixth,  Olive,  and  Hill  Streets,  a  middle- 
aged  man  of  good  dress  and  appearance  seated 
himself  on  the  same  bench  and,  disregarding  con- 
ventionalities, began  to  make  himself  agreeable, 
first  commenting  on  the  weather  and  then  gradu- 
ally leading  up  to  the  subject  in  which  he  was 
most  interested.  Presently  he  inquired  if  my  young 
friend  was  occupied  in  business,  and  received  the 
reply,  "No;  not  at  present,  but  I  am  on  the  look- 
out for  something  that  will  be  worth  while."  As 
one  word  always  leads  to  another,  the  stranger 
soon  inquired  if  the  young  man  could  dance.  Re- 
ceiving an   affirmative  answer,  he   remarked: 

"Good!  I  notice  you  are  a  swell  dresser  also, 
and  a  pleasant  conversationalist;  in  fact,  have  all 
the   requirements  if   I'm  not  mistaken." 

"What  requirements?"  asked  my  young  friend. 

"Say,  young  man,"  the  stranger  answered,  "I 
can  put  you  wise  to  something  that  will  bring  you 
the  quickest  returns  for  the  least  labor  you  ever 
struck,  but  'mums  the  word.'  " 

"Fire  ahead,"  replied  my  young  friend ;  "  'mums 
the  word.' " 


406  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

"First,  I  note  that  you  are  agreeable,  educated, 
well  dressed,  and  a  dancer,  all  of  which  takes  with 
the  majority  of  girls,  at  least  the  girls  we  have 
to  reach.  Next,  I  need  you  in  the  ballrooms.  Per- 
haps you  may  occasionally  require  an  automo- 
bile.    To  be  sure,  that  is  expensive,  but  .  .  ." 

"What  is  he  driving  at?"  silently  wondered  my 
young  friend.  "Guess  I  will  hear  him  through. 
Here's  something  out  of  the  ordinary." 

"Girls  will  be  girls,"  the  man  continued.  "It's 
dead  easy  to  win  some,  harder  with  others;  but 
there's  big  money  in  it  for  each  new  supply  you 
can  furnish." 

"Furnish  for  what.''"  inquired  my  young  friend. 

"The  necessary  evil,  my  hoy,  the  necessary  evil, 
of  course,"  was  the  startling  answer. 

Trembling  with  indignation,  my  young  friend 
quickly  arose  and  unhesitatingly  shouted: 

"Police !     Police !" 

The  procurer  disappeared  so  suddenly  that  no 
one  of  the  small  crowd  which  quickly  gathered 
knew  what  was  the  matter  until  too  late  to  arrest 
the  scoundrel. 

Is  that  stranger  the  only  procurer?  Common 
sense  answers,  "No!"  My  reader,  there  are  thou- 
sands. Therefore  if  nothing  else,  no  other  reason 
— and  they  are  many — (should  cause  young  ladies 
to  refrain  from  a  practise  which  means  compromise 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  407 

or  ruin,   often   eternal  damnation,  surely  this  il- 
lustration should  be  sufficient. 

Permit  me  to  mention  another  reason,  one  I  am 
also  able  to  verify,  for  it  came  from  one  shipwrecked 
at  the  age  of  twenty-two,  and  now  passed  into  eter- 
nity, but  then  lying  in  one  of  the  wards  of  the 
county  hospital.  To  be  brief,  he  was  a  dancer. 
Honor,  however,  forbade  his  making  any  improper 
advances  to  his  girl  partners,  but  the  effects  of 
their  close  proximity  were  fatal.  All  the  evil  of 
his  nature  was  stirred,  and  it  would  not  be  sup- 
pressed. He  yielded;  visited  places  whose  thresh- 
olds he  would  never  otherwise  have  crossed;  then 
followed  depravity,  disease,  and  an  untimely  death. 
Who  was  responsible  for  this?  The  unharmed 
girls  with  whom  he  danced.  Surely  a  word  to  the 
wise  is  sufficient.  If  dancing  causes  my  brother 
to  err,  I  will  dance  no  longer. 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  WITH  THE  OUTCAST.  409 

CHAPTER  XLIV. 
SARAH. 

Whilst  doing  a  house-to-house  work  in  one  of 
our  large  coast  towns,  also  filling  various  pulpits 
whenever  opportunity  permitted,  I  was  on  one  oc- 
casion cordially  invited  to  enter  the  lodging  of  a 
girl,  who,  when  I  was  seated,  quickly  turned  the 
key  in  the  lock,  remarking  as  she  did  so:  "You're 
just  the  kind  of  a  person  I  have  been  hoping  this 
long  time  to  meet.  Excuse  me  for  locking  you  in, 
but  I  don't  want  to  be  disturbed  while  you  are 
here,  where  I'm  truly  ashamed  to  have  you  find 
me.  I  want  to  tell  you  my  situation  and  see  if 
you  can  not  immediately  get  me  out  of  this  awful 
predicament." 

Calling  attention  to  the  fact  that  there  was 
no  odor  of  liquor,  no  signs  of  cigarettes  about,  and 
stating  that  in  consequence  she  was  unpopular  with 
the  habitues  of  the  other  lodgings  in  the  imme- 
diate vicinity,  she  inquired: 

"Do  I  look  like  a  hardened  sinner?" 

"You  certainly  do  not,"  was  my  reply. 

"Oh!  I'm  so  relieved,"  she  rejoined,  "so  re- 
lieved to  hear  you  say  so,  because  I  want  to  get 
away  from  this  life,  and  I  am  sure  you  can  help 
me." 


410  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

"All  that  is  in  my  power,  dear  girl,"  I  assured 
her.     "Now  tell  me  your  story." 

"I've  a  little  brother  and  sister,"  she  began. 
,  "My  father,  when  I  was  seventeen  years  of  age, 
ran  off  with  another  woman  and  deserted  poor 
Mother,  who  took  it  so  hard  that  she  lived  only 
two  years.  This  left  me  to  provide  for  the  chil- 
dren. I  had  to  get  some  help  from  the  county 
for  the  funeral  expenses,  and  it  wasn't  easy  to 
make  a  good  appearance  and  provide  properly  for 
the  little  ones  on  what  I  was  earning." 

"What  were  you  doing  for  a  living,  dear.''"  I 
asked. 

"I  was  working  in  a  laundry,  from  early  morn- 
ing till,  many  times,  late  at  night.  I  got  a  dol- 
lar a  day  and  for  over-time  was  paid  extra."  (If 
I  remember  correctly,  she  said  ten  cents  an 
hour.) 

"Was  that  sufficient  to  provide  food,  clothing, 
and  shelter  for  all  three  of  you?"  I  inquired. 

"No,  mam,  though  I  managed  somehow.  I 
boarded  them  with  an  old  friend  of  mother's,  who 
was  very  kind,  and  I  felt  she  was  never  paid 
enough  for  her  trouble,  so  you  may  be  sure  I  was 
constantly  on  the  lookout  for  a  better-paying  job. 
At  last  I  thought  I  had  struck  one,  but  for  a  while 
it  would  take  me  away  from  them,  for  it  was 
away  off  in  Nevada. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  411 

"I  answered  an  ad  in  the  morning  paper  for  a 
situation  in  a  hotel.  The  man  and  woman  wanted 
me  right  away,  as  they  were  leaving  on  the  eve- 
ning train,  and  would  take  me  with  them,  also  two 
others.  So  I  quickly  made  all  my  arrangements. 
Two  days  later  we  were  there,  and  it  took  me  no 
time  to  see  that  our  principal  work  would  be  to 
wait  on  tables  in  the  saloon  and  gambling-hall. 
/  had  no  money,  and  was  in  debt.  What  could  I  do 
hut  make  the  best  of  it?  and  it  is  surprising  how 
soon  one  can" 

"Yes,  my  child.  I've  frequently  heard  others 
make  the  same  sad  remark — (but  proceed  with  your 
story." 

"I  was  making  quite  a  bit,  besides  sending  money 
home  to  keep  the  children,  when  something  hap- 
pened which  made  me  so  despondent  [she  did  not 
say  what  it  was]  that  one  day  I  quit  my  job,  and 
one  of  the  girls  said,  'Go  down  to  — i — ^  Sarah. 
You'll  be  able  to  get  plenty  of  honest  work  there, 
at  good  wages.'  So  I  left;  and,  believe  me,  I 
hadn't  struck  — I — »  before  some  one  on  the  train 
recognized  me  as  one  of  the  girls  who  had  worked 
in  the  — — »  Hotel.  It  was  all  up  with  me  now. 
In  my  despair  I  took  this  den,  for  which  I  pay 
one  dollar  and  fifty  cents  a  day.  I  loathe,  I  hate 
the  business.  I  am  ready  and  willing  to  go  into 
anybody's  kitchen  and  work,  and  work  hard  and 


412  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

well,  for  I  know  how.  Do  you  think  you  could 
get  any  one  to  hire  me?" 

As  she  had  been  brought  up  by  a  God-fearing 
mother,  we  knelt  together  in  that  vile  den,  where 
we  both  prayed.  With  the  tears  streaming  down 
her  cheeks,  she  prayed  her  mother's  God  and  her 
God  to  forgive  her  for  having  been  so  weak  as  to 
yield  to  the  devil,  all  because  she  wanted  more 
money  so  as  to  be  able  to  provide  better  for  the 
little  brother  and  sister,  and  implored  Him  to  give 
her  employment  where  she  could  have  them  near 
her  until  they  were  old  enough  to  do  for  them- 
selves. 

Now  listen  to  how  God  answered  that  prayer. 
On  the  next  evening  (Sunday),  whilst  I  was  ad- 
dressing a  large  audience  in  the  Congregational 
church,  I  related  this  girl's  experience  and  then 
requested  honest  work  for  her,  emphasizing  thus: 
"She  claims  to  be  capable;  she  looks  it;  therefore 
she  can  earn  good  wages.  Whoever  is  in  need  of 
such  a  girl,  please  privately  inform  me  at  the  close 
of  this  service."  In  less  than  an  hour,  that  girl 
could  have  had  her  choice  of  five  situations  in  re- 
sponsible families.  I  chose  one  for  her,  and  for 
aught  I  know  to  the  contrary,  she  may  be  there 
still.  (Reader,  it  is  impossible  to  keep  track  of 
diflferent  ones,  there  are  so  many.)  She  gave  such 
excellent  satisfaction  that  erelong  her  little  brother 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  418 

and  sister  were  provided  a  good  home  in  her  im- 
mediate neighborhood,  and  scarcely  any  one  is  the 
wiser  for  her  unfortunate  error. 

Thus  the  rescue  worker  occasionally  sees  happy 
results  of  the  travail  of  soul  for  the  lost  ones;  but 
would  to  God  there  were  many  more  Christian  em- 
ployers like  the  one  Sarah  found,  who  treat  her 
so  kindly,  as  well  as  give  her  what  she  is  capable 
of  earning,  that  she  makes  extra  effort  to  prove  her 
appreciation  and  gratitude.  "But,"  you  pay, 
"there  are  not  many  like  Sarah."  True;  also  there 
are  not  many  Christians  like  Sarah's  employers. 
In  fact,  they  are  very,  very  rare.  Many  a  time 
have  I  wearied  myself  in  vain  in  an  endeavor  to 
procure  honest  employment  for  some  young  girl 
who  has  been  convicted  and  imprisoned  a  short 
time  for  her  first  offense  and  who  has  told  me  of 
her  capabilities  and  begged  me  to  procure  employ- 
ment pending  her  release,  so  that  she  would  not 
have  to  return  to  her  undesirable  home  and  sur- 
roundings,  with   their   accompanying  temptations. 

"We  dare  say  she  means  well  enough  now,  but 
we  could  not  think  of  hiring  her  until  some  one 
has  first  tested  and  proved  her  trustworthy.  Be- 
sides, there  are  other  members  of  our  family;  they 
must  be  taken  into  consideration,"  is  the  frequent 
excuse.  Thus  the  responsibility  is  shifted,  and,  sick 
and  sad  at  heart,  we  go  away  to  inform  the  poor 


414  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

girl  who  wants  honest  work  that  our  efforts  have 
proved  futile.  We  then  implore  her  to  make  her 
home  in  one  of  the  refuges  until  she  can  once 
more  become  established,  only  to  hear  her  say: 
"That  would  hoodoo  me  for  sure.  You  know  as 
well  as  I  do  that  scarcely  any  wages  are  offered 
to  a  girl  who  is  hired  out  of  a  rescue  home,  even 
if  she  is  quite  capable."  Reader,  it  is  shamefully 
true.  Oh!  why  will  professed  Christians  take  so 
mean  an  advantage  of  the  situation  and  expect 
girls  who  have  made  some  mistake,  but  have  the 
courage  to  live  it  down,  to  go  to  work  at  menial 
employment  for  little  or  nothing?  Under  such 
circumstances,  what  inducement  have  they  who, 
if  encouraged,  would  do  better? 

May  the  dear  Lord  as  never  before  give  us  an 
introspective  vision  of  ourselves  as  he  sees  us. 
This  will  surely  clothe  us  with  the  mantle  of  Christ- 
like  charity,  in  the  event  of  our  determination  to 
live  up  to  our  profession  and  numberless  privi- 
leges. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  415 

CHAPTER  XLV. 
THE    WOMEN     PRISONERS    OF    SAN    QUENTIN. 

The  present  kind  wardens  (Hoyle  and  Reilly) 
of  the  two  penitentiaries  of  California  have  granted 
me  many  more  opportunities  to  enjoy  heart-to- 
heart  talks  with  the  prisoners  than  I  am  able  to 
relate.  In  but  one  of  these  places  (San  Quen- 
tin)  are  the  women  incarcerated.  In  this  depart- 
ment  let   me   endeavor   to   awaken   your   interest. 

It  is  situated  in  a  remote  corner,  inside  the 
prison  walls,  and  is  accessible  only  through  the 
passage-way  underneath  the  central  building  seen  in 
the  illustration  on  next  page.  It  is  built  two  stories 
high  around  a  hollow  cemented  square,  with  win- 
dows looking  into  the  same.  It  affords  no  view, 
excepting  barely  the  tops  of  the  hills,  the  sky, 
and  the  matron's  house.  Truly  these  poor  women 
are  shut  in.  Not  so  with  the  men,  as  will  be  seen 
in  the  same  picture.  It  shows  a  portion  of  the 
beautiful  garden  into  which  many  a  cell  door 
opens.  One  corner  of  these  quarters  may  be  seen 
on  the  right,  the  women's  being  inside  of  the 
building  near  the  tree  on  the  left.  Frequently 
have  I,  attended  by  the  matron,  Mrs.  G.  G.  Smith, 
a  very  warm  friend  of  mine,  come  through  that 
iron  gateway  in  the  wall,  always  to  be  greeted 
with  smiles  and  warm  words  of  welcome  by  my  less 


416  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

fortunate  sisters.  These  meetings  were,  without 
doubt,  profitable  to  all  concerned.  I  enjoyed  their 
orchestra  (some  are  very  musical),  and  they  en- 
joyed  the  songs   to  my   autoharp   accompaniment. 

As  I  have  previously  mentioned,  the  present 
matron,  after  much  intercession  and  with  the  war- 
den's aid,  succeeded,  a  few  months  following  her 
accession  to  the  matronal  office,  in  prevailing  upon 
the  board  of  prison  directors  to  grant  the  women 
prisoners  a  monthly  walk  on  God's  beautiful  green 
hills.  In  order  to  prove  their  appreciation  of  her 
kindness,  the  women  banded  together  to  give  her  an 
entertainment  on  the  first  anniversary  of  her  ma- 
tronship.  To  this  day  they  believe  the  affair  to  have 
been  a  complete  surprise,  though  she  was  aware  of 
their   preparations    from   the   beginning. 

The  day  broke  warm  and  beautiful.  Immediately 
after  dinner  Matron  Smith  was  escorted  to  a  seat 
of  honor  in  the  yard  and  the  program  was  opened 
by  an  excellent  address  of  welcome  (of  which  I 
have  an  exact  copy)  by  E — — ■„  whose  offense  was 
— r — -  well,  we  won't  say  what  nor  how  long  her 
term  of  imprisonment.  She  is  a  bright  young 
woman,  as  the  following  well-worded  and  touching 
speech  amply  verifies: 

Trusting  in  your  graciousness,  and  with  your 
approval,  we,  the  inmates  of  the  female  depart- 
ment of  this  institution,  have  taken  the  liberty 
of  arranging  a  program  for  an  entertainment  to 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  417 


be  given  in  the  honor  of,  and  to  celebrate  this, 
your  official  natal  day. 

Just  a  year  ago  today  you  came  to  us.  To  you 
it  means  just  the  passing  of  time  in  a  sphere  of 
action  hitherto  unknown  to  you;  but  to  us  a  year 
filled  with  memories  of  all  things  good — easier 
times,  warmer  clothing,  and  privileges  until  then 
unknown. 

We  have  enjoyed,  through  your  kind  interces- 
sion, and  the  courtesy  of  our  noble  Warden,  the 
delight  of  walking  forth  into  the  outer  world, 
even  if  only  for  a  short  time;  of  seeing  once 
more  green  fields  and  hills  clothed  in  nature's 
gown  of  green  and  flowers;  of  viewing  the  waters 
of  the  bay  and  inhaling  the  salt  sea  air;  and 
of  being  entertained  in  your  own  sweet  way,  in 
your  own  sweet  home.  At  last,  but  not  least, 
to  have  the  intense  satisfaction  of  gazing  at  the 
outside  of  our  prison  wall,  anticipating  the  time 
when  we  will  always  be  outside  of  that  old  wall. 
And  in  our  daily  life  together,  you,  in  the  dis- 
charge of  your  duties,  have  been  a  kind  and  gen- 
tle matron,  listening  always  with  patience  to  our 
tales  of  woe.  And  through  all  the  past  year  you 
have  been  to  us  our  guide,  friend,  and  comrade. 
We  one  and  all  pray  that  life  will  give  you 
health,  happiness,  and  prosperity,  and  all  of 
heaven's  good  gifts. 


Then  followed  an  enjoyable  program. 

Who  could  not  be  touched  by  such  tender  senti- 
ment from  those  whom  the  world  at  large  regard 
as  well-nigh,  if  not  quite,  hopeless  cases.  Because 
of  this  and  also  because  of  the  receipt  of  a  recent 
letter  (Sept.  14,  1911),  I  humbly  and  heartily 
thank  God  that  I  am  able  to  prove  that  kindness, 
coupled  with  good  judgment,  is  very  effectual. 


418  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

Enclosed  in  this  lengthy,  newsy  letter  from  the 
matron  are  some  excellent  up-to-date  photos  of 
the  San  Quentin  prison,  two  of  which  you  will 
find  between  these  covers,  and  also  a  clipping  from 
one  of  San  Francisco's  daily  papers,  as  follows: 

a,ooo  iiEAVz:  fbxson  wai^IiS. 

Warden  Hoyle  G-iyes  San  Qnentin  Charsres  an  Unnsual 
FrivUegre. 

Nearly  two  thousand  convicts  at  San  Quentin  prison 
walked  outside  the  walls  on  Admission  Day  and  spent 
more  than  three  hours  in  God's  out-of-doors,  while 
they  rooted  for  rival  ball  teams  playing  on  a  diamond 
beneath  the  blue  Marin  County  skies. 

No  extra  guards  or  precautions  marked  the  first  time 
in  the  history  of  a  California  State  prison  that  convicts 
have  been  permitted  to  leave  the  walls. 

JOKE   AND   I.AVQU. 

In  orderly  procession  the  men  filed  out  from  the 
prison  yard  between  the  great  stone  gate-posts,  laugh- 
ing and  Joking  like  schoolboys  in  their  joy  at  seeing 
once  more  an  unobstructed  sweep  of  smiling,  open 
country. 

From  three  o'clock  until  six  fifteen  every  man  in 
the  institution  except  the  sick  and  incorrigibles,  stood 
or  sat  on  the  ground  or  perched  on  adjoining  sheds 
while  the  "Whites"  and  "Blacks"  played  ball  that 
would  do  credit  to  a  fast  bush  league. 

Over  at  one  *de  sat  a  row  of  condemned  prisoners, 
watching  their  last  ball  game  and  forgetting  for  a 
few  blessed  moments  that  the  shadow  of  the  scaffold 
hung  over  them. 

WOWAN  FAXrS,   TOO. 

Prom  other  seats,  the  women  prisoners  saw  the 
game. 

For    four    innings    neither    side    scored.      Then    the 


WITH   THE    OUTCAST.  419 

"Blacks' "  pitcher  lost  his  control,  and  the  two  thou- 
sand frenzied  rooters  cheered  as  man  after  man  slid 
home.  The  score  at  the  close  stood  7  to  2  in  favor  of 
the   "Whites." 

"It's  only  part  of  the  new  policy  of  trusting  the 
prisoners  and  treating^  them  like  human  beings,"  said 
Warden  Hoyle  today.  Hoyle  is  the  man  who  is  responsi- 
ble for  the  innovation.  "We  have  no  fear  for  a  break  for 
liberty,  and  the  men  showed  that  they  appreciate  de- 
cent treatment.  I  can't  say  that  we  will  take  the  men 
outside  every  holiday,  but  the  experiment  was  a  suc- 
cess and  will  be  tried  again." 

What  the  glimpse  of  a  world  outside  the  prison 
walls  meant  for  the  prisoners  can  be  appreciated  by 
readers  of  "The  Bulletin"  who  have  read  Donald  Low- 
rie's  narrative  of  life  within  the  prison  walls. 

The  Admission  Day  game  marked  a  new  epoch  in  th« 
history  of  California  prisons. 

What  an  innovation  compared  with  former  poli- 
cies! Surely  practical  demonstration  of  these  ex- 
periments in  other  parts  of  the  country  will  have 
a  tendency  to  reduce  criminality.  If  not,  pray  tell 
me  what  will?  Time  and  again  have  I  heard  pris- 
oners and  others  comment  upon  the  impractical 
Christianity  portrayed,  with  seldom  any  exception. 
They  weary  of  being  only  preached  to.  The 
actions  of  such  men  as  Warden  Hoyle  and  of  such 
women  as  Matron  Smith  will  probably  have  more 
to  do  with  helping  these  convicted  ones  to  lead 
upright  lives  in  the  future  than  will  all  the  preach- 
ing of  celebrated  divines  from  now  to  doomsday, 
and  I,  a  Christian,  do  not  hesitate  for  one  moment 
to  say  so  frankly.     In  the  name  of  the  dear  Lord, 


420  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

let  us  endeavor  to  practise  what  we  preach,  and 
thus  win  numberless  blessings  from  the  throne  of 
grace  for  ourselves  and  others. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  421 

CHAPTER  XLVI. 
VALLEJO,     MARE     ISLAND,    AND    ALCATRAZ. 

"I  am  sure  you  will  enjoy  a  trip  with  me  to 
Vallejo  and  Uncle  Sam's  great  navy  yard,  adjacent 
to  it.  It  is  only  about  an  hour's  ride  from  San 
Francisco  and  is  accessible  both  by  train  and 
boat,"  I  said  to  my  friend,  Mrs.  Walter  C.  Show, 
of  Santa  Barbara,  whose  guest  I  then  was,  in  her 
lovely  villa  in  that  beautiful  city  by  the  sea.  She 
had  been  giving  me  most  interesting  accounts  of 
her  entertainment  of  the  marines  and  the  cadets  at 
the  time  when  the  fleet  lay  at  anchor  in  the  bay. 
As  I  was  soon  due  in  San  Francisco,  she  accom- 
panied me.  Before  starting  we  notified  friends; 
consequently,  warm  welcome  and  royal  entertain- 
ment was  ours  from  the  time  of  arrival. 

As  this  was  by  no  means  my  first  visit,  I  pre- 
pared her  for  the  shock  of  seeing  many,  many 
saloons  and  other  disreputable  places  for  the  pur- 
pose of  robbing  hundreds,  nay,  thousands  of  boys, 
far  from  home  and  mother,  of  their  hard  and  scanty 
earnings.  Nevertheless,  there  is  an  excellent  Ma- 
rine Y.  M.  C.  A.  in  Vallejo,  with  a  large  member- 
ship; but  they  are  in  the  minority.  We  saw  scores 
pouring  out  of  the  saloons  or  hanging  around 
their  immediate  vicinity;  scores  more  that  eve- 
ning coming  in   or  going  out  of  the  dance-halls 


422  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

and  dens  of  iniquity  and  vice.  Many  were  in 
dreadful  stages  of  intoxication.  Alas!  the  pity, 
the  great  pity  of  it,  that  Uncle  Sam  does  not  wake 
up  to  protect  those  ready  to  lay  down  their  lives 
for  home  and  country,  not  to  speak  of  the  hun- 
dreds of  thousands,  nay,  millions  of  our  floating 
population.  Where  will  it  all  eventually  end? 
where,  oh!  where? 

I  contend  that  the  civic  clubs  of  any  community 
hold  the  key  to  the  situation.  If  they  would  strive 
for  the  prevention  of  crime  rather  than  for  the 
reformation  of  the  criminal,  the  resultant  good 
would  soon  be  tenfold  that  of  the  present  regime. 

The  day  following  our  arrival  we  were  taken 
to  inspect  Mare  Island.  As  heretofore,  the  prison- 
ship  was  filled  with  young  men  serving  short  terms 
or  awaiting  trial  for  some  serious  offense.  In  al- 
most every  instance  liquor  was  responsible  for 
their  being  in  trouble.  It  was  heartrending.  We 
realized  that,  aside  from  speaking  a  kind  word  or 
giving  some  motherly  advice,  we  could  do  little  if 
anything.  We  were  inadequate  to  cope  with  the 
situation.  We  could  pray  with  them,  poor  lads; 
we  could  sympathize  with  them;  but  we  were  prac- 
tically powerless  in  that  or  in  any  community  that 
tolerates,  licenses,  and  votes  for  the  means  of  the 
downfall  of  men,  women,  and  children.  All  we 
can   do   is    pray   and   wait,   wait   and   pray.      God 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  423 

speed  the  day  when  the  enemy  of  souls  shall  no 
longer  reign  over  them  and  laugh  at  their  calamity. 
God  speed  the  day. 

I  again  made  it  my  business  to  visit  many  lost 
girls  in  that  city,  earnestly  pleading  with  them 
to  quit  the  downward  path  and  stop  dragging  other 
souls  down  to  hell  along  with  their  own.  Most  of 
them  appeared  to  be  gospel  hardened.  One  girl, 
however,  seriously  impressed  me.  She  was  one  of 
the  few  who  would  listen. 

"I'll  tell  you  how  I'm  situated/'  she  said,  "and 
then  if  you  don't  think  I  am  to  be  pitied  more 
than  blamed,  you're  different  from  what  I  think 
you  are.  I've  the  dearest  mother  on  earth.  She 
lies,  a  hopeless  cripple,  in  a  little  cottage  in  West 
Oakland.  I  also  have  a  little  brother  not  old 
enough  to  go  to  school  yet.  I  hire  a  woman  who 
has  known  us  for  many  years  to  take  care  of  them. 
She  is  elderly,  and,  for  the  sake  of  a  good  home, 
works  for  small  wages.  She  knows  how  I  live, 
but  would  rather  die  than  betray  me.  Mother 
thinks  I  am  working  in  a  hotel  where  I  get  plenty 
of  'tips'  besides  my  wages.  I  go  home  every  Mon- 
day to  see  her.  Mother  Roberts,  I  would  give  the 
world  if  I  could  be  able  to  have  my  pure  mother 
kiss  lips  that  were  clean  instead  of  stained  and 
stained  with  sin. 

"I  won't  send  her  to  the  hospital.     I  love  her 


424  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

better  than  my  life.  She'd  die  there,  for  the  need 
of  nice  little  things  they  never  provide,  and  other 
necessaries.  My  little  brother  would  have  to  be 
reared  in  some  charity  institution.  I  couldn't 
stand  it.  I'm  the  most  unhappy  girl  on  earth  be- 
cause of  the  situation,  and  don't  you  forget  it;  but 
I  can't,  I  can't  earn  sufficient  honest  money  to 
support  them  and  myself  properly." 

Later,  the  mother  died,  and  the  poor  daughter, 
who  had  ruined  her  life  to  support  her,  went  in- 
sane and  then  took  her  life. 

Some  of  the  girls  told  me  that  one  man  owned 
nearly  all  the  dance-halls  there  as  well  as  the 
girls,  and  that  very  few  of  them  had  any  liberty 
or  money.  They  were  living  in  hope,  but  alas! 
many  were  dying  in  despair.  Apparently  little  if 
any  impression  could  be  made  on  those  we  did  have 
a  chance  to  talk  with.  We  could  only  sow  the 
seed  and  trust  our  merciful  God  for  results. 

All  the  pastors  invited  us  into  the  pulpits,  where 
we  endeavored  faithfully  to  give  such  messages 
as  God  saw  fit  to  lay  on  our  hearts. 

The  next  day  we  left  for  a  visit  to  Alcatraz 
Island,  the  isolated  military  prison  situated  mid- 
way between  San  Francisco  and  Sausalito.  Oh, 
what  a  gloomy,  desolate  place !  Notwithstanding 
its  beautiful  situation,  excellent  discipline,  etc.,  its 
atmosphere  is  most  depressing.     Even  before  one 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  4S5 

lands  one  feels  weighted  down,  despondent  for 
its  prisoners,  many  of  whom  sit  or  stand  with  hats 
drawn  low  over  their  faces,  breaking,  ever  break- 
ing stones  by  the  roadside.  Nearly  all  are  be- 
ing punished  for  desertion.  The  sympathetic  vis- 
itor longs  to  address  them,  but  is  not  permitted  to  do 
so.  He  is  allowed  only  a  brief  visit  with  whomso- 
ever he  has,  after  much  trouble,  received  a  per- 
mit for  an  interview,  and  then  always  in  the 
presence  and  within  hearing  of  the  officer  in  charge. 
Surely  the  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard,  and 
especially  so  with  the  violator  of  Uncle  Sam's 
rigid  army  and  navy  rules  and  regulations.  For 
this  reason  Uncle  Sam  ought  to  remove  the  stum- 
bling-blocks that  he  countenances  and  legalizes 
and  that  cause  so  many  of  his  otherwise  obedient 
servants  to  fall  into  disrepute  and,  in  numerous 
cases,  into  untimely  graves. 

The  young  man  whom  we  had  come  to  visit, 
though  a  refined,  intelligent  soldier,  was  a  de- 
serter. He  had  the  usual  sad  story  to  relate — 
wine,  women,  then  desertion.  There  was  so  lit- 
tle, with  the  exception  of  Christian  sympathy,  with 
which  we  could  encourage  him.  The  future  looked 
gloomy.  I  made  an  effort,  through  one  of  my 
friends  in  Congress,  to  obtain  this  young  man's 
parole,  but  as  this  was  his  second  offense,  the  at- 
tempt was  futile.     It  is  hard,  very  hard  on  the  mis- 


426  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

sionary  to  have  to  be  the  bearer  of  discouraging, 
often  heart-breaking,  news;  but  as  this  is  part  of 
our  office,  we  bear  the  cross  as  we  alone  can,  al- 
ways pointing  the  disappointed  and  heavy-hearted 
to  the  Savior,  the  Burden-bearer;  sometimes,  but 
not  always,  leaving  them  with  the  load  somewhat 
lightened. 

From  this  sad  place  we,  with  heavy  hearts,  pro- 
ceeded to  San  Quentin.  After  spending  two  hours 
(for  our  time  was  limited)  we  then  departed  for 
San  Francisco,  where  we  visited  various  points 
of  interest  to  the  consecrated  ones.  Then,  after 
an  absence  of  ten  days,  we  returned  to  beautiful 
Santa  Barbara,  where  church  and  other  engage- 
ments  were  awaiting  me. 

Thence  I  traveled  up  the  Coast,  ever  with  the 
one  object  in  view — "the  Master's  service."  I 
visited  jails  and  the  avenues  that  lead  to  that 
place,  and  held  many  meetings,  always  being  well 
received  by  pastors  of  various  denominations,  civic 
societies,  etc.  In  the  name  of  the  Lord,  yet  with 
the  spirit  of  love,  I  endeavored  to  place  the  blame 
for  the  downfall  of  the  masses  where  it  belonged 
and  belongs — at  the  door  of  the  licensed  saloon. 

When  I  reached  San  Luis  Obispo,  I  learned,  to 
my  great  joy,  that  the  Columbia  Park  Band  Boys 
of  San  Francisco,  forty  of  whom  were  on  a  walk- 
ing tour  from  that  city  to  Los  Angeles,  were  due 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  487 

the  following  day.  At  Chittenden  (my  home), 
just  before  I  left,  my  friends  had  delightfully 
entertained  them  with  a  picnic  on  their  beautiful 
grounds.  There  we  learned  what  an  effectual 
(prevention)  work  was  being  carried  on  for  the 
reputable  lads  of  the  public  schools  of  San  Fran- 
cisco under  the  leadership  of  the  Piexotto  brothers, 
who  arrange  for  entertainments,  outings,  and 
treats  throughout  the  year,  thus  appealing  to  all  the 
better  instincts  and  qualities  of  many  of  the  ris- 
ing generation.  It  is  truly  a  most  practical,  worthy 
enterprise,  one  which  should  be  adopted  in  all  large 
cities  for  the  encouragement  and  the  promotion  of 
better  citizenship. 

A  sad  case  was  awaiting  trial  in  this  city — 
a  fifteen-year-old  girl  prisoner  accused  of  the  mur- 
der of  her  babe.  I  visited  her  frequently.  She 
was  finally  sent  to  Whittier  Reform  School.  Much 
comment  on  this  is  out  of  the  question;  suffice  it 
to  say,  the  girl,  because  of  her  pre  and  post-natal 
environments,  was  far  more  to  be  pitied  than 
blamed. 

I  was  next  due  at  Santa  Maria.  During  my 
brief  sojourn  there  I  was  the  guest  of  the  presi- 
dent of  the  Women's  Improvement  Club,  who,  with 
many  others,  was  making  a  strenuous  effort  to 
abolish  the  saloon  from  their  midst.  I  there  be- 
came acquainted  with  a  very  enthusiastic,  fearless 


428  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

child  of  God,  a  converted  Jew,  whose  name  I  can 
not  recall  at  the  time  of  this  writing,  but  whose 
help  I  greatly  appreciated.  He  was  leaving  no 
stone  unturned  for  the  elimination  of  the  local 
liquor  traffic. 

Returning  to  San  Luis  Obispo  for  a  brief  stay, 
I  was  much  gratified  in  renewing  the  acquaintance 
of  Dr.  Bulgin,  a  successful  evangelist,  with  whom, 
in  various  places,  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  being 
more  or  less  associated  in  the  work. 

S — I — ,  the  city  where  I  was  on  the  morning 
of  the  earthquake,  was  once  more,  for  a  short  time, 
my  stopping-place.  As  something  that  had  just 
occurred,  so  dreadful  yet  so  interesting,  occu- 
pied all  my  time  and  attention  during  my  stay 
there,  and  as  it  furnishes  ample  material  for  another 
story,   I   will  relate   it  in  the    following  chapter. 


WITH    THB    OUTCAST.  420 

CHAPTER  XLVII. 
IRENE'S  AWFUL  FATE — "THE  WAGES  OF  SIN." 

After  very  warmly  greeting  me,  the  landlady  of 
the  hotel  in  which  I  was  staying  at  the  time  of 
the  earthquake  introduced  me  to  several,  with  the 
remark,  "This  is  the  lady  of  whom  I  was  speak- 
ing a  while  ago — ^the  one  who  occupied  the  room 
in  my  house  in  which  the  plaster  was  not  even 
broken  on  that  morning  of  the  earthquake.  I've 
always  claimed  God  had  a  hand  in  that,  for  every 
other  room  and  everything  else  here  was  prac- 
tically destroyed,  as  many  can  testify."  This 
being  corroborated  by  a  number  sitting  or  stand- 
ing around,  she  next  said: 

"Did  you  come  to  investigate  last  night's  mur- 
der?" 

"What  murder?"  I  inquired.  "I  have  not  as  yet 
heard  of  it." 

"The  awful,  cold-blooded  murder  of  a  young 
woman  they  call  Irene,  down  on  — ' —  Street,  by  a 
drunken  lad  twenty  years  of  age.  It's  the  worst 
ever!"  she  exclaimed. 

"Do  you  know  the  parties,  either  of  them?"  I 
asked. 

"Not  the  girl,  only  by  sight.  She  was  about 
twenty,  and  as  pretty  as  a  picture.     She  and  her 


430  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

sister  were  leading  awful  lives.  One  lies  mur- 
dered, andj  now  that  you  are  here,  I  guess  it 
won't  be  hard  to  induce  the  other  to  quit.  They 
have  been  well  reared,  in  as  nice  a  family  as  you 
could  wish  to  know.  It's  too  bad,  too  bad!" 
mourned  my  landlady. 

"What  about  the  lad  who  has  committed  this  aw- 
ful deed?     Do  you  know  him?"  I  inquired. 

"Yes,  almost  ever  since  he  was  born.  He  is  an 
only  child.  His  mother  is  a  widow,  and  one  of 
the  nicest  women  you  ever  met.  But  he  always 
was  bad,  even  when  a  small  boy.  Let  me  tell 
you  what  he  once  started  to  do.  He  took  a  kitten 
and  was  in  the  very  act  of  skinning  it  alive,  just 
as  you  would  a  rabbit,  when  he  was  caught,  and 
the  poor  little  animal  quickly  put  out  of  its  mis- 
ery. He  seemed  to  delight  in  being  cruel  to  any- 
thing that  came  his  way.  He'd  take  a  fly  and 
pick  a  wing  or  a  leg  off  at  a  time,  and  then  turn 
it  loose  to  enjoy  watching  it  trying  to  move  about. 
When  he  got  older,  his  mother  couldn't  make  him 
go  to  school  much,  although  she  did  everything 
to  coax  or  bribe  him.  He  got  beyond  her  con- 
trol, and  would  leave  home  for  days  and  weeks  at 
a  time,  then  suddenly  put  in  his  appearance  and  de- 
mand money  from  her,  which  she  always  gave 
him;  otherwise  she  would  have  no  peace.  Then 
off  he'd  go  again,  to  turn  up  again  just  as  he  did 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  481 

yesterday  morning,  when  he  came  in  on  the  train 
and  began  to  make  his  brags  that  he  meant  to  paint 
the  town  red  before  he  left  it,  and  he  certainly  has 
— ^with  human  blood." 

"Is  not  his  home  here?"I  inquired. 

"Not  now.    It  used  to  be,  but  they  moved  away 

to ' —  some  time  ago,  all  owing  to  his  bad 

actions,"  she  replied,  and  then  added.  "My  but 
I'm  awful  sorry  for  his  poor  mother!  One  of  the 
nicest  Christian  women  you  ever  met.  Mother  Rob- 
erts. I  can't  understand  how  God  could  punish 
her  with  such  a  child.     I  can't,  indeed!" 

Inquiring  my  vray,  I  soon  found  myself  at  the 
jail,  where  this  twenty-year-old  murderer  was 
being  held.  The  sheriff  was  very  kind ;  but  he  con- 
siderately informed  me  that  the  lad  was  in  such 
a  shocking  state  of  inebriety  as  to  be  loathsome 
even  to  them,  and  also  that  they  preferred  to  let 
his  mother,  who  had  not  yet  arrived,  have  the  first 
interview. 

Thence  I  wended  my  way  to  the  district 
in  which  this  awful  crime,  at  nearly  midnight  the 
previous  night,  had  been  perpetrated.  I  first 
called  at  a  respectable  house  in  the  immediate 
neighborhood,  in  order  to  get  my  bearings  and 
necessary  preliminary  information ;  then  soon  I  rang 
the  bell  of  the  door  where  the  poor  murdered  girl 
had  been  lodging,  but  received  no  response.  Some 


482  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

one  next  door,  however,  heard  and  answered,  then 
invited  me  in. 

Five  girls,  all  huddled  together,  their  faces  still 
blanched  with  horror,  confronted  me  when  I  en- 
tered that  room.  Never  was  a  missionary  more 
warmly  welcomed.  Never  was  a  better  opportun- 
ity to  comfort  and  warn,  then  point  to  the  "Lamb 
of  God,  who  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world." 
Never  were  more  humble  prayers  or  promises  of 
reformation.  Every  one  of  them  had  homes  to  go 
to,  and  every  one  promised  to  go  as  soon  as  the 
funeral  was  over.  Then  I  inquired  where  I  could 
find  the  sister  of  the  murdered  girl.  They  told 
me.  They  also  gave  me  particulars  concerning 
the  murder. 

The  lad,  it  appeared,  loitered  around  that  neigh- 
borhood before  dark,  apparently  semi-intoxicated, 
and  then  went  into  one  of  the  houses,  where  he 
still  more  freely  indulged.  Upon  leaving,  he 
pointed  his  pistol  and  carelessly  fired,  "just  for 
fun,"  into  a  window  up-stairs.  The  bullet  missed 
a  girl's  head,  singeing  her  p>ompadour.  Return- 
ing at  dark,  he  renewed  his  wild  revelries.  About 
midnight,  because  his  victim  would  not  continue 
to  drink  with  him,  he  shot  her  without  one  word 
of  warning.  Screaming  at  the  top  of  her  voice,  she 
ran  through  every  room  of  the  house,  he  after  her, 
still   shooting.      He   emptied   every   barrel   of   his 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  483 

weapon  into  her  poor  sinful  body.  Every  girl 
and  youth  under  that  roof  fled  at  the  first  shot. 
The  murderer,  after  doing  his  worst,  coolly  walked 
out,  went  up-town,  and  entered  a  saloon.  There, 
as  he  called  for  a  drink,  he  laid  his  weapon  on  the 
bar,  bragging  as  he  did  so  of  his  terrible  deed. 
He  was  immediately  arrested. 

When  the  oflScers  arrived  at  the  scene  of  the 
crime,  they  found  the  bloody  trace  of  the  victim 
in  every  room,  and  when  they  finally  discovered 
her,  she  was  quite  dead.  She  was  kneeling  by  her 
bedside,  her  head  buried  in  the  clothes,  her  hands 
tightly  clasped  as  though  she  had  been  trying  to 
pray  as  her  poor  soul  passed  out  into  eter- 
nity. 

I  found  her  sister  and  had  a  heart-to-heart,  soul- 
to-soul  talk  with  her — one  that  I  shall  never  for- 
get. She  was  so  silent,  so  uncommunicative,  yet  I 
talked  on  until  I  felt  the  Spirit  say,  "Enough." 
I  have  seen  her  since.  She  was  still  leading  the 
kind  of  life  which  had  been  instrumental  in  send- 
ing her  sister's  soul  and  others'  souls  by  the  thou- 
sands to  eternal  perdition.  She  received  me  kindly, 
but  she  would  not  heed,  notwithstanding  she  ad- 
mitted that  she  was  haunted  the  livelong  time.  She 
would  give  no  reason  for  continuing  on  the  road 
to  hell. 

"Who  were  these  sisters?"  you  ask.     Daughters 


434  .  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

of  parents  who  were  in  comfortable  circumstances 
and  stood  well  in  their  community.  I  was  told  that 
both  girls  were  inveterate  novel-readers,  patrons 
of  every  show  that  came  to  town,  good  dancersi 
and  dressers,  and — reader,  it  is  the  same  old  sad, 
sad  story.  They  confided  in  any  one  rather  than 
their  parents;  and  hence  were  easily  persuaded 
to  take  the  first  step  downward. 

And  what  about  that  boy,  whose  mother  wept 
and  mourned  and  questioned  why  this  awful  trouble 
should  have  been  put  upon  her,  she  who  had  never 
wronged  anybody  in  all  her  lifetime. 

Listen!  poor  afflicted  mother.  You  have  forgot- 
ten that  when  you  were  young  and  newly  married 
you  did  not  want  to  be  burdened  with  motherhood 
for  a  long  time  to  come.  You  wanted  to  continue 
to  enjoy  social  functions  in  the  very  pretty  dresses 
your  fond  parents  had  provided  toward  your  wed- 
ding trousseau;  you  had  no  intention  for  many 
a  long  day  to  settle  down  to  the  usual  routine  in- 
cident to  motherhood;  in  fact,  you  purposed  to 
have  a  good  time  for  the  next  two  or  three  years, 
before  your  pretty  clothes  went  out  of  fashion; 
besides,  you  did  not  particularly  take  to  children 
anyhow,  and  if  you  had  had  your  own  way,  you 
would  never  have  had  any.  You  said  it,  and  you 
know  it,  that  a  woman  is  so  tied  down  who  has 
babies  to  take  care  of. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  485 

The  time  came  when  the  greatest  boon  con- 
ferred on  woman  was  to  be  conferred  on  you. 
What  did  you  do?  How  angry  you  were  as  you,  for 
months  nursed  your  grievance,  because  God  was 
going  to  have  his  way  in  spite  of  all  opposition. 
One  day  the  little  babe  was  laid  in  your  arms.  As 
he  was  a  goodly  child  to  look  upon,  you  were  re- 
signed; but,  oh!  poor,  poor,  untutored  mother!  you 
had  unawares  robbed  your  darling  of  his  birth- 
right, and,  furthermore,  you  had  brought  into 
the  world  a  being  with  murderous  tendencies. 

Yes,  you  were  converted  at  that  revival  meet- 
ing, and  knew  that  all  your  past  sins  were  blotted 
out  by  the  efficacy  of  the  precious  blood  of  Jesus. 
Yes,  we  know  you  are  living  a  Christian  life  so 
far  as  you  know  how,  but  "your  sins  have  been 
visited  upon"  your  poor  child.  The  germ  was  in 
his  being,  and  now  he  must  pay  the  penalty  for 
your  crime  of  a  little  over  twenty  years  ago.  For 
crime  it  was,  and  you  can  not  call  it  by  any  other 
name.  "Others  have  been  alike  guilty,"  you  say. 
Alas,  yes !  by  the  thousands ;  but  that  never  for  a 
moment  excuses  you. 

You  didn't  know?  No;  not  altogether,  for  you 
were  not  taking  a  look,  a  long  look  into  the  fu- 
ture. You  had  no  instruction  from  your  own  fond, 
indulgent,  falsely  modest  mother  regarding  these 
God-given  functions,  capable  of  producing  a  soul. 


436  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

a  wonderful  soul;  and  so  you  ignorantly,  selfishly 
erred. 

Never  was  mortal  sorrier  for  another  than  I  am 
for  you.  Never  was  mortal  more  anxious  to  help 
bear  another's  burden  than  I  am  to  help  bear 
yours;  but  it  is  well-nigh  impossible  for  me  to 
do  so.  Only  Jesus  can  ease  your  broken  heart. 
Only  Jesus  can  comfort  you.  Only  Jesus  can  heal 
your  terrible,  terrible  wound,  poor,  weeping,  af- 
flicted mother.  All  I  am  able  to  do  is  to  sympa- 
thize with  and  pray  for  you. 

After  this  heart-rending  experience  I  was  glad 
to  rest  a  few  days  at  Chittenden  and  enjoy  the  fel- 
lowship of  its  cherished  owners.  Ah!  how  kind, 
how  very,  very  kind  they  were!  but  the  mail  was 
constantly  bringing  calls  that  were  more  or  less 
urgent;  sometimes  to  quickly  locate  a  wandering 
girl;  sometimes  to  come  to  a  juvenile  court  ses- 
sion, or  perhaps  to  a  hospital  or  jail;  and  one  was 
to  assist  in  the  work  at  Portland,  Ore.  Whilst 
considering  the  latter  call  and  praying  for  lead- 
ings, I  took  time  to  hold  some  meetings  in  an  in- 
terior town.  Following  a  mothers'  meeting  there 
a  young  lady  urged  me  to  visit  her  and  have  a 
confidential  talk  with  her  upon  a  matter  which 
was  of  vital  importance.  I  did  so,  and  this  is  what 
she  said: 

"Wlhat  I  am  about  to  betray  would  lose  me  my 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  487 

situation  if  it  were  known;  therefore  I  shall  rely 
on  you  to  respect  strictly  the  confidence  I  am 
about  to  place  in  you,  as  to  the  source  from  whence 
you  received  it.  I  have  a  position  in  the  telephone- 
office,  consequently,  I  hear  many  conversations, 
some  of  which  are  utterly  demoralizing. 

"There  is  a  certain  woman  in  this  city  whose 
business  it  is,  at  least  so  I  judge,  to  corrupt,  morally 
and  physically,  young  school  and  messenger  boys, 
as  you  will  surmise  by  a  conversation  which  took 
place  this  very  morning,  and  it  is  not  her  first  of- 
fense. She  called  for  her  party,  and  as  I  could 
not  get  them  at  once,  I  asked  for  her  number,  so 
as  to  be  able  to  call  her  as  soon  as  I  could.  Pres- 
ently I  succeeded,  and  soon  she  was  asking: 

"  'Is  this  Harry.''' 

"Some  one  at  the  other  end  of  the  line  replied: 

"  'Yes.     Is  that  you,  Cora?' 

"  'Of  course,  you  little  dunce.  When  are  you 
coming  down  again.''     Didn't  you  .  .  .   ?' 

"  'Dandy.  But  say,  Cora,  it's  awful  risky. 
I'm  not  fourteen  yet.  What  if  I  should  get  nabbed  ?' 

"  'No,  you  won't  if  you'll  mind  me.  Now  lis- 
ten. Come  in  at  the  lower  side  entrance.  I'll 
give  a  tip  to  the  bar-tender.  If  the  coast  is  clear, 
you  can  come  up  the  back  stairs;  if  not,  he'll  hide 
you  until  I  say  so.' 

"'What  time?' 


438  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

"  'Tomorrow  after  you're  out.  You  know.  After 
three.     So  long.'  " 

The  case  was  sickening,  revolting;  but  it  de- 
manded immediate  action.  After  prayerfully  medi- 
tating for  a  few  minutes,  I  called  up  the  chief 
of  police,  asked  for  audience  without  delay,  and 
soon  thereafter  was  in  his  private  office.  After 
listening  attentively  to  my  recital,  he  at  first 
thought  to  wait  until  the  morrow  and  then  ar- 
rest all  parties  concerned;  but  upon  reflection  he 
decided  that  that  course  would  never  do,  as  the 
boy's  parents  were  of  high  social  standing.  The 
arrest  would  ruin  them.  Moreover,  it  would  never 
do  to  wait  until  the  morrow.  One  of  his 
private  detectives  was  immediately  deputized  to 
call  on  Miss  Cora  and  give  her  twelve  hours 
to  leave  town,  bag  and  baggage.  He  was  to  tell 
her  the  real  reason  and  to  inform  her  that  if  she 
refused  to  go  she  would  be  arrested  and  severely 
punished  for  enticing  and  harboring  minors.  Short 
as  the  time  was,  she  managed  to  dispose  of  her 
things.  Her  house  was  permanently  closed,  and 
the  saloon  soon  afterward. 

As  to  the  boy^  I  waylaid  him  on  his  way  home 
from  school  and  told  him  what  I  had  found  out, 
so  that  he  was  perfectly  willing  to  go  with  me  to 
the  chief  of  police,  who,  I  am  satisfied,  gave  him 
much  fatherly  advice  as  well  as  a  thorough  scare. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  4S» 

calculated  to  last  as  long  as  he  lived  and  also  to 
aid  him  in  warning  his  schoolmates  and  friends 
having  similar  evil  tendencies. 

But  I  must  return  to  Chittenden.  Several  let- 
ters from  Oregon  had  been  forwarded.  I  felt 
that  I  must  answer  this  call,  God  willing.  I  de- 
cided to  help  there,  at  least  temporarily.  Accord- 
ingly, one  morning,  bright  and  early,   I   started. 

As  I  boarded  the  train,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Chitten- 
den handed  me  a  letter,  the  reading  of  which 
brought  tears  of  love  and  appreciation.  Here  it  is, 
word  for  word: 

Chittenden,  Cal.,  Nov.  16,  1909. 
Dear  Mrs.   Roberts: 

We  do  not  wish  you  to  cross  the  State  line 
into  Oregron  without  carrying  a  few  words  from 
home  with  you — that  is  our  excuse  for  the  writ- 
ing of  this  letter. 

You  have  been  one  of  us  at  Chittenden  since 
you  were  invited  to  malce  our  home  yours  last 
spring.  Our  wish  was,  and  is,  that  Chittenden 
should  be  your  home  in  all  that  the  name  im- 
plies— a  place  to  which  you  could  always  turn 
for  rest  and  recuperation  from  your  unselfish  la- 
bors; and  from  which  you  could  go  forth  again 
to  your  chosen  task  to  battle  against  evil,  cheered 
by  kind  words,  and  knowing  that  warm  hearts 
and  a  warm  welcome  were  waiting  for  you  when 
you   again   needed   rest. 

You  have  been  with  us  now  for  over  half  a 
year,  and  your  presence  here  has  been  most 
agreeable  to  us.  Our  respect  for  you  has  rip- 
ened into  regard,  and  our  regard  into  affection, 
and  now  that  you  are  leaving  us,  we  realize  how 
much  the  home  spirit  has  worked  to  bind  us  all 


440  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

together,   and  we  know   that  we  shall   miss  you 
and  shall  often  wish  to  have  you  with  us  again. 

Well,  Oregon  can  not  claim  you  all  the  time. 
Some  time  you  will  feel  weary  and  overworked — 
some  time  you  will  need  rest — and  when  you  do, 
Just  remember  that  there  is  a  little  green  and 
flowery  spot  along  the  railway  down  in  Cali- 
fornia— a  place  where  the  door  stands  always 
open,  and  where  sincere  friends  are  always  wait- 
ing to  welcome  you — and — come  home. 

Sincerely    your   friends. 

Ida  H.  Chittenden. 
T.  Chittenden. 

I  stopped  off  at  several  places:  at  San  Jose  and 
San  Francisco,  to  visit  the  rescue  homes  and  dear 
friends,  particularly  dear  Sister  Kauffman,  whose 
house  had  been  dynamited  and  destroyed  at  the 
time  of  the  fire  following  the  earthquake,  but  who 
still  sheltered  many  a  girl  in  temporary  cottages 
on  the  land  where  the  home  had  once  stood;  next 
Berkeley,  where  lives  my  hospitable  friend,  Mrs. 
J.  T.  Anderson,  whose  beautiful  home  I  enjoy  the 
freedom  of  whenever  in  her  neighborhood;  then 
Sacramento,  to  spend  one  night  with  dear  Mrs. 
Trefren,  already  referred  to  as  one  of  my  warmest 
friends;  then  Redding,  my  old  home,  where  I  res- 
cued little  Rosa,  and  which  was  the  scene  of  many 
battles  and  victories  in  the  name  of  the  Lord.  At 
this  latter  place  there  awaited  me  a  royal  recep- 
tion from  my  many  former  friends  and  associ- 
ates. It  had  been  more  than  a  decade  since  I  had 
held   up   on  the  rear   platform  of  the  train  that 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  441 

Bible  with  its  blessed  parting  message  from  Gal. 
6 : 9.  All  through  the  interval  the  Master  had 
graciously  permitted  me  to  sow  and  to  reap.  Though 
there  had  been  much  more  sowing  than  reaping, 
yet  there  had  not  been  a  great  deal  of  fainting, 
for  the  grace  of  God  had  been  all  sufficient.  Halle- 
lu  j  ah ! 

Before  I  had  been  many  days  in  Portland,  I  re- 
ceived a  telegram  telling  of  the  death  of  Mr.  Rob- 
erts. (Reader,  I  have  refrained  from  stating  in 
this  book  under  what  circumstances  and  at  what 
time  Mr.  Roberts  came  back  into  my  life,  simply 
because  that  matter  has  no  direct  reference  to  the 
title  of  the  book  and  also  because  it  recalls  too 
much  pain  and  distress  of  a  private  nature.  This 
I  will  say:  With  the  other  duties  an  added  heavy 
cross  was  mine,  owing  to  his  mental  and  physical 
condition — a  cross  which,  I  regret  to  say,  I  did 
not  always  bear  as  patiently  or  as  cheerfully  as 
I  might  have  borne  it.  It  lasted  from  February, 
1905,  to  November,  1909.)  A  caved-in  tunnel 
near  the  State  line  prohibited  my  return,  but  Pas- 
tor Iferper,  of  San  Jose,  and  other  kind  friends 
relieved  me  of  all  final  responsibilities  regarding 
my  late  husband. 

Until  my  return  to  California  three  months  later, 
in  the  direct  interests  of  the  prison  commission 
work,  I  worked  even  more  laboriously  than  ever 


442  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

before.  As  ever,  the  Lord  raised  up  many  friends 
for  me  in  Portland  and  vicinity;  yet,  at  the  same 
time,  I  was  bitterly  opposed  and  well-nigh  over- 
whelmed by  the  enemy,  who  resorted  to  all  sorts 
of  means  and  devices  to  crush  both  soul  and  body. 
Did  he  succeed?  No,  indeed;  for  God  was  "my 
refuge  and  strength,  a  very  present  help  in 
trouble."  Has  not  the  Lord  promised  that  "when 
the  enemy  shall  come  in  like  a  flood,  the  Spirit 
of  the  Lord  shall  lift  up  a  standard  against  him" 
(Isa.  59:19)?  What  blessed  assurance  for  those 
who  truly  love  and  try  to  serve  him!  Hallelujah! 
My  last  meeting  before  leaving  Oregon  was  un- 
der the  auspices  of  the  Woman's  Christian  Tem- 
perance Union  in  a  suburb  called  St.  John's.  An 
account  of  the  service  was  made  in  the  local  paper, 
The  Review,  Feb.  4,  1910,  as  follows: 

The  Woman's  Christian  Temperance  Union  of 
St.  John's  planned  a  treat  for  the  women  of  this 
place  which  proved  a  grand  success.  Mrs.  Florence 
Roberts,  better  known  as  "Mother  Roberts,"  spoke 
for  an  hour  to  over  one  hundred  and  fifty  women 
in  Bickner's  Hall  Tuesday  afternoon.  The  most 
strict  attention  was  paid,  for  it  was  a  most  sol- 
emn message  she  grave  to  us.  After  the  meeting- 
refreshments  were  served,  and  the  ladies  lingered 
a  while  to  get  acquainted.  Five  new  members 
were  added  to  the  Union. 

I  left  there  that  same  night  for  California,  and 
the  next  meeting  that   I   shall  mention   was   that 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  448 

held  the  following  Sunday  evening  in  the  fine  hall 
of  the  ex-prisoners'  home,  110  Silver  Street,  San 
Francisco.  On  this  occasion  I  had  the  prayers  of 
many  former  prisoners  that  God  would  bless  me 
as  I  went  forth  to  interest  the  people  in  their 
behalf  and  to  open  hearts  and  purses  to  aid  in 
lifting  the  mortgage  on  this  home — "Golden  Rule 
Hall."  In  this  interest  I  remained  in  San  Fran- 
cisco for  some  time,  being  occupied  exclusively  in 
interviewing  responsible  business  people  and  por- 
traying the  need  of  their  cooperation,  financially 
and  otherwise.  During  this  time  I  was  the  guest 
of  Brother  Charles  Montgomery,  president  of  the 
board  of  prison  commissioners,  at  his  hotel — The 
Brooklyn.  Afterward  I  visited  San  Mateo  and 
Burlingame,  with  the  same  object  in  view.  At  the 
former  place  the  young  pastor  of  the  Methodist 
Episcopal  church.  Rev.  C.  B.  Sylvester,  was  just 
commencing  a  series  of  revival  meetings.  Upon 
learning  my  errand  to  San  Mateo,  he  and  his  wife 
urged  my  cooperation  in  the  evening  services,  and 
to  this  end  invited  me  to  remain  under  their  roof. 
As  I  acceded  to  their  wishes,  double  duty  for  the 
kingdom  now  confronted  me,  but  the  realization 
that  our  Lord  never  imposed  too  heavy  a  burden 
was  now  demonstrated.  Those  precious  meetings 
closed  in  two  weeks,  with  most  blessed  results. 
This  records  my  first  active,  actual  revival  work. 


444  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

To  the  glory  of  God,  let  me  make  mention  that 
hundreds  of  dollars  was  the  result  of  the  daytime 
labor  for  the  payment  of  the  ex-prisoners'  home. 

During  July  and  August,  1910,  I  was  in  an  in- 
terior town  and  was  laboring  under  an  indescrib- 
able burden  for  certain  souls.  /  believe  I  know 
what  untold  soul-agony  is.  Whilst  almost  sink- 
ing beneath  my  load,  I  received  a  letter  from  one 
whom,  with  his  bride,  I  had  been  brought  into 
Christian  fellowship  with  in  the  early  days  of  res- 
cue experience.  The  missive  had  followed  me 
from  one  place  to  another  until  only  the  last  ad- 
dress could  be  plainly  deciphered,  owing  to  numer- 
ous erasures.  Other  letters  had  often  miscar- 
ried and  failed  to  reach  me.  This  one  was,  by  the 
hand  of  God,  safely  guided  through.  The  father, 
with  four  little  helpless  children  on  his  hands, 
wrote  of  the  mental  derangement  of  their  mother, 
of  his  inability  to  find  help,  and  of  his  pleading  to 
God  to  send  some  one  consecrated  enough  to  assist 
them  in  their  time  of  trouble.  He  was  a  poor 
man,  but  had  a  home  and  was  working  industri- 
ously at  his  trade  to  support  his  little  flock,  the 
youngest  of  whom  was  not  four  years  old,  the  eld- 
est ten. 

Positively  I  knew  of  no  one  to  go  to  the  res- 
cue. Whilst  I  was  praying  earnestly  for  the  Lord 
to  find   some  good   woman  to  mother  those  little 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  445 

ones  pending  their  mother's  recovering,  I  received 
the  impression,  "Go  yourself."  Surely  there  is 
work  everywhere — ^just  as  much  in  that  distant 
town  as  where  I  was.  I  admit  I  shrank  from  so 
trying  an  ordeal,  but,  do  my  best,  I  could  not  sil- 
ence the  impression,  "Go  yourself."  I  prayed  that 
if  no  other  door  opened  within  the  next  three 
days,  God  would  let  me  regard  this  as  a  sign  that 
his  voice  was  bidding  me  take  up  this  cross.  Such 
was  his  will.  I  wrote,  saying,  "Expect  me  [date] 
on  evening  train."  For  nine  weeks  my  immediate 
duty  was  with  those  little  ones.  Still  further  to 
try  me,  there  was  added  to  my  domestic  labors, 
measles.  No  sooner  had  one  child  recovered  than 
the  next  was  taken  with  them,  until  all  had  been 
similarly  afflicted. 

Some  of  the  neighbors,  having  learned  that 
"Mother  Roberts"  was  quietly  sojourning  at  this 
brother's  house,  called;  and  soon  I  was  assisted 
with  very  necessary  sewing,  etc.  After  the  three 
oldest  children  were  once  more  able  to  go  to  school, 
I  received  a  unanimous  invitation  to  hold  revival 
meetings  in  that  town.  About  this  time  God  sent 
the  brother  a  splendid  housekeeper,  an  elderly 
Christian  woman,  who  relieved  me  of  domestic  du- 
ties, so  that  I  was  able  to  accept  the  call  men- 
tioned. 

On  February  1  of  this  year   (1911)   I  received 


446  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

from  Wheeling,  W.  Va.,  a  telegram  which  filled 
me  with  indescribable  joy,  for  it  informed  me  of 
the  birth  of  a  little  grandson.  (My  first  grand- 
child and  little  namesake  I  have  never  seen.  God 
took  her  when  she  was  nine  months  old.)  I  longed 
to  hold  this  dear  little  one  in  my  arms  and  prayed 
God  to  grant  my  heart's  desire,  if  according  to 
his  will.  And  he  did.  Bless  his  holy  name!  Fol- 
lowing the  revival  services  already  mentioned, 
came  a  call  from  another  town  not  far  distant. 
At  the  close  of  this  meeting  a  free-will  offering 
enabled  me  to  take  the  desired  trip.  On  March 
7,  1911,  in  company  with  a  lady  who  was  going 
within  a  short  distance  of  my  destination,  I 
boarded  the  train  and  before  long  was  with  my  pre- 
cious little  family.  My  cup  of  happiness  was  now 
filled  to  the  brim,  my  heart  overflowing  with  grati- 
tude to  God,  as  I  embraced  my  dear  ones  and 
their  precious  little  son. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  447 

CHAPTER  XLVIII. 
MY    RETURN    TO    THE    MISSIONARY    FIELD. 

In  a  few  weeks  a  longing  to  return  to  missionary 
work  was  again  taking  possession  of  me.  In  vain 
I  sought  for  the  undenominational  rescue  hall 
usually  to  be  foimd  in  large  cities.  Apparently 
Wheeling  had  nothing  of  this  kind,  though  surely 
very  much  needed.  Moreover,  the  requisite  en- 
couragement for  the  starting  of  one  was  not  forth- 
coming. 

Sundays  would  find  me  with  my  treasured  auto- 
harp  in  the  jail,  work  house,  or  infirmary  at  the 
afternoon  services,  which  for  years  have  been  con- 
ducted by  consecrated  Christians,  longing  as  much, 
nay,  even  perhaps  more  than  I,  for  the  necessary 
places  of  refuge  for  discharged  prisoners  and 
others.  God  speed  the  day  when  these  needed  in- 
stitutions  shall  be   amply   supplied. 

A  lengthy  conversation  with  one  of  the  local 
judges,  who  is  specially  interested  in  juvenile 
offenders,  elicited  the  fact  of  there  being  no  place 
of  detention  for  erring  children  except  with  the 
professed  or  habitual  criminals.  Comment  upon 
this  is  superfluous;  it  is  sufficient  to  say  that  in 
nine  cases  out  of  ten  disastrous  results  are  inevi- 
table. Owing  to  a  lack  of  interest,  of  means,  or  of 
cooperation,  perhaps  of  sufficient  good  citizenship. 


448  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

maybe  of  all  four^  the  judge  and  his  coworkers 
seem  to  be  unable  at  present  to  cope  with  or  im- 
prove the  situation.  In  a  few  years  hence,  this  and 
other  cities  similarly  situated  will  be  facing  a 
problem  well-nigh  impossible  to  solve,  unless  un- 
usual efforts  are  made  to  provide  for  detention 
homes  and  schools  for  the  delinquent  children,  now 
so  numerous  everywhere,  excepting  in  towns  and 
States  where  the  awful  liquor  octopus,  so  largely 
responsible  for  crime  and  criminal  tendencies,  is 
absolutely  abolished.  Let  us  not  for  a  moment 
forget  that  these  youthful  offenders  are,  in  the 
main,  the  offspring  of  lovers  of  drink  and  its  ac- 
cessories. Thus  the  sins  of  the  parents  are  visited 
upon  the  children,  and  upon  the  children's  chil- 
dren, unto  the  third  and  fourth  generation  of  them 
that  hate  God ;  but  he  says  that  he  will  show  mercy 
unto  thousands  of  them  that  love  him  and  keep 
his  commandments  (Deut.  5:9,  10). 

A  pastor,  describing  the  situation,  informed  me 
with  the  tears  in  his  eyes  that,  notwithstanding 
all  the  efforts  put  forth  for  children's  spiritual 
instruction,  the  results  were  very  meager,  owing 
to  the  indifference  of  parents — -fathers  and  moth- 
ers who  send  their  little  ones  to  Sunday-school 
in  the  morning  and  then  undo  all  the  good  in 
the  afternoon  by  supplying  them  with  nickles  and 
sending  them  imchaperoned  to  the  moving-picture 


_l 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  440 

shows,  in  order  that  they  (the  parents)  may  be 
free  to  indulge  in  worldly  pleasures  and  amuse- 
ments. Fortunately,  a  Sunday-closing  movement 
in  this  direction  has  recently  been  crowned  with 
success. 

Some  time  in  April  as  I  was  taking  a  street- 
car ride  between  Wheeling,  W.  Va.,  and  an  adja- 
cent town  just  across  the  river  in  the  State  of 
Ohio,  my  soul  was  uplifted  when  my  eyes  alighted 
upon  this  sign:  "City  Gospel  Mission."  Upon 
getting  off  the  car  at  the  next  corner,  I  soon 
learned  from  the  one  who  was  superintending  this 
work  of  the  need  of  more  consecrated  assistants. 
I  therefore  at  once  volunteered  my  services.  God 
saw  fit  to  keep  me  in  this  field  for  three  months,  or 
until  the  time  came  for  him  to  trust  me  still 
further  along  in  his  glorious  light  and  liberty,  thus 
giving  me  greater  realization  than  ever  before  of 
what  "the  steps  to  His  throne"  mean  literally  as 
well  as  spiritually.  To  explain:  My  attention  was 
attracted  to  a  little  band  of  workers  quietly,  un- 
ostentatiously living  remarkable  lives  of  humility, 
faith,  and  prayer,  depending  absolutely  upon  our 
heavenly  Father  for  all  necessities,  health  of  body 
as  well  as  of  soul,  and,  in  fact,  literally  follow- 
ing God's  Word,  in  spirit  and  in  truth.  Investi- 
gation convinced  me  beyond  a  doubt  that  my  Lord 
had  very  much  more  of  his  riches  for  my  enjoy- 


450  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

ment  here  on  earth  than  of  what  I  had  already 
partaken,  if  I  would  be  willing  still  further  to 
humble  myself. 

For  days  the  adversary  contended  with  my  soul. 
Everything  calculated  to  discourage  me  was 
brought  to  bear,  but  praise  God  forever  for  vic- 
tory! On  the  day  it  was  gained,  I  informed  my 
loved  ones  that  I  was  soon  to  leave  them  in  order 
to  answer  the  call  of  God  in  an  entirely  new  field  of 
labor,  where  opportunity  would  shortly  be  granted 
me  to  give  the  world  the  benefit  of  a  few  of  the 
numerous  experiences  of  the  past  fifteen  years. 
Through  the  consecrated  humble  little  band  al- 
ready referred  to,  I  learned  of  the  Gospel  Trum- 
pet Home  and  Publishing  Company,  situated  at 
Anderson,  Indiana.  I  wrote  to  them,  and  shortly 
afterwards  received  a  cordial  invitation  to  visit 
them  for  an  indefinite  period.  About  the  mid- 
dle of  August  I  was  lovingly  greeted  by  a  fam- 
ily of  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  children  of 
God,  mostly  young  people  of  both  sexes,  all  con- 
secrated f aith- workers ;  all  cheerfully  and  gladly 
giving  the  Lord  their  time  and  talents  in  this 
beautiful  spot  and  being  abundantly  provided  for 
materially  as  well  as  spiritually. 

Here,  whilst  writing  these  experiences,  I  am  en- 
joying blessed  rest  of  both  soul  and  body,  such  as 
I   had  never  dreamed   of;   for,   like  many,  many 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  4,51 

others,  I  had  no  idea  of  there  being  such  a  fore- 
taste of  heaven  on  earth  as  this  which  is  being 
daily  and  hourly  demonstrated  by  the  many  mem- 
bers of  the  church  of  God  (Col.  1:18)  sojourn- 
ing under  this  roof  of  prevailing  prayer  and  prac- 
tical faith.  Best  of  all,  every  one  is  given  cordial 
invitation  to  investigate  personally;  to  satisfy  him- 
self beyond  a  doubt  that  the  God  who  so  wonder- 
fully fed  the  Israelites  in  the  wilderness  in  Moses' 
time,  and  that  the  Christ  who  multiplied  the  loaves 
and  fishes,  who  went  about  healing  all  manner  of 
divers  diseases  as  well  as  speaking  the  word  of 
life  to  the  sin-sick  soul,  is  positively,  absolutely, 
"just  the  same  todai/."  These  people,  so  I  learn, 
are  to  be  found  scattered  broadcast.  Look  them  up. 
They  are  known  as  the  church  of  God.  They  are 
those  who  have  come  out  from  confusion  and  sec- 
tarianism into  the  only  church  God  will  ever  rec- 
ognize— Jthe  body  of  his  only  begotten  Son,  Jesus 
Christ.  I  praise  him  with  all  my  soul  that  through 
his  wondrous  grace  I  am  now  in  this  glorious 
light  and  liberty. 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  WITH  THE  OUTCAST.  458 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

SOME    PRECIOUS    LETTERS    FROM     PRECrOUS 
CHILDREN. 

Many  poets  have  likened  life  to  a  dream.  Reader, 
doubtless  you  are  aware,  as  I  am,  that  life  is  but 
too  realistic  for  the  masses,  the  great  masses  of  suf- 
fering, sorrow-stricken  humanity,  with  so  few,  com- 
paratively speaking,  so  few  to  uplift,  comfort, 
cheer,  and  sustain;  so  few  to  speak  the  blessed 
words  of  a  bright  hereafter.  Especially  is  this 
so  with  regard  to  those  of  the  underworld.  We 
find  but  few  of  the  home  missionaries  undertak- 
ing this  line  of  work;  still  fewer  who  have  the 
God-given  grace  and  courage,  coupled  with  soul- 
love,  to  go  to  the  fallen  sister  and  help  her  out 
of  sin;  very  few  who  do  not  shrink  from  putting 
a  foot  across  the  threshold  of  a  jail  or  prison;  but 
many,  very  many  quite  willing  to  fill  the  easy 
places;  qoite  ready  to  perform  tasks,  provided 
these  will  not  cost  much  inconvenience,  comfort, 
personal  pride,  sacrifice,  or  money.  But  some  (arc 
yon  among  them?)  were  delegated  to  go  out  into 
the  highways  and  hedges,  the  streets,  and  the 
lanes,  and  compel  (by  the  power  of  divine  love) 
those  found  there,  to  come  to  the  King's  banquet, 
in  order  that  his  supper  might  be  furnished  with 


454  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

guests.  Most  plainly  does  our  Master  emphasize 
the  fact  that  the  publicans  and  the  outcasts  will 
largely  be  represented  on  that  great  day,  that  day 
which  will  positively  come,  and  which  in  these 
perilous  times  is  seemingly  right  at  our  very 
thresholds. 

I  shall  never  forget  going  into  the  San  Jose  jail 
on  one  occasion  and  trying  to  impress  a  girl  who, 
as  she  lay  on  her  cot,  seemed  utterly  indifferent 
to  all  advances;  even  turning  her  face  to  the  wall 
and  stopping  her  ears  with  her  fingers.  Imagine 
my  great  surprise  months  afterwards  on  receiving 
the  following  letter   from  her: 

San  Francisco,  Cal,, 
March  16,  1906. 
My  dear  Mrs.  Roberts: 

I  am  feeling  so  lonesome  and  blue  here  tonight 
all  alone  in  my  room.  .  .  .  Somehow  my  thoughts 
turned  to  you,  and  I  could  not  keep  the  tears 
from  my  eyes  as  I  realized  that  I  had  one  friend, 
because  you  were,  oh !  so  kind  to  me  during  my 
imprisonment  in  San  Jose. 

Dear  Mrs.  Roberts,  can  you  bring  before  your 
mind's  eye  this  picture?  Picture,  if  you  can,  the 
desolate  darkness  of  the  night  extending  on  and  on. 
For  months  not  a  ray  of  light,  not  one  kind  word, 
not  one  friendly  face,  until  at  last,  when  almost  in 
despair,  a  gleam  of  sunshine  shot  across  your 
pathway,  a  kind,  loving  voice  said,  "I  will  be  your 
friend;   I   will  help  you."     Such  was   my  condi- 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  455 

tion,  and  you,  Mrs.  Roberts,  was  that  gleam  of  sun- 
shine. Your  voice  was  the  one  that  cheered  me 
until  I  took  fresh  courage.  Mrs.  Roberts,  God  has 
taken  me  back.  .  .  .  May  God  bless  you  in  your 
work.  ...  I  wish  I  could  see  you  and  talk  with 
you.  You  are  indeed  my  spiritual  mother.  I 
hope  you  will  allow  me  to  call  you  so.  I  wanted 
to  tell  you  how  much  you  had  helped  me.  I  know 
you  are  very  busy,  but  if  you  have  time,  please 
drop  me  one  line.  I  am  so  hungry  for  a  message 
from  you  to  cheer  me  up.  May  God  bless  you  and 
yours. 

A M . 

San  Francisco,  Cal., 
March  20,   1906. 
Dear  Mrs.  Roberts — 'My  Spiritual  Mother: 

I  cried  from  pure  joy  when  I  received  your  let- 
ter and  photo.  Yes,  God  is  most  wonderfully  show- 
ing me  his  way,  and  at  last  my  spirit  is  broken, 
and  I  am  content  to  obey  the  voice  of  my  Savior. 

Praise  God  for  his  wonderful  salvation  that 
saves  and  keeps  one  enjoying  his  great  blessings! 
Praise  his  name !  I  have  nothing  now  to  fear. 
Mrs.  Roberts,  I  am  glad  I  did  that  time  in  jail, 
because  it  taught  me  the  lesson  of  patience  and 
submission,  and  now  it  is  much  easier  for  me  to 
live  a  Christian  life.  I  now  have  a  better  ex- 
perience than  I  could  have  had  otherwise.  Pray 
for  me.  Mother  Roberts,  and  I  will  pray  for  you. 
May  God  give  you  success  in  your  work. 

May  God  bless  you  and  yours  is  the  prayer  of 
vour  spiritual  child, 

A^—   M . 


456  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

FBOU  A  PBISOIT  BOT. 

San  Quentin,  Cal., 

Sept.  13,  . 

My  dear  Friend  Mother  Roberts: 

I  received  your  letter  of  the  4th  inst.  and  was 
very  glad  to  get  it,  and  will  try  and  drop  you  a 
line  in  answer  now,  although  there  is  not  much 
in  the  way  of  news.  I  am  much  better  now  and 
am  working  outside  around  the  warden's  house, 
where  I  can  get  plenty  of  fresh  air;  so  I  think  the 
time  will  pass  much  more  pleasanter  than  if  I  was 
on  the  inside  of  the  prison  walls.  I  had  quite  a 
siege  of  sickness  (pleuro-pneumonia  the  doctor  pro- 
nounced it),  but  I  am  getting  better  all  the  time 
and  think  soon  to  be  entirely  strong  again. 

I  think  often  of  the  kindness  you  showed  me 
while  I  was  in  — —  [a  county  jail],  and  I  will 
never  forget  it  or  the  advice  you  gave  me.  You 
started  me  on  the  right  path  to  heaven,  and  I  do 
pray  to  God  that  he  will  lead  the  rest  of  the 
way  so  that  when  I  stand  before  him  on  the 
judgment-day  he  will  claim  me  as  one  of  his  own 
children.  There  is  one  thing  that  worries  me:  my 
mother  is  quite  sick,  and  writes  me  that  she  does  not 
expect  to  live  to  see  me  set  at  liberty,  but  I  pray  to 
God  to  spare  her  until  I  am  free  and  able  to  prove 
to  her  and  every  one  else  that  I  am  a  true  child  of 
God  and  worthy  to  take  my  place  amongst  hon- 
est Christian  men.  Don't  think  I  can  ever  forget 
you,  and  my  thoughts  are  with  you  when  my  words 
are  not. 

I  will  close  now,  hoping  that  God  will  take  care 
of  you,  which  is  the  prayer  of  your  friend, 

A-^-.  G . 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  457 

FBOM  A  BSCX^AXKSD  WIFE. 

San  Francisco,  Cal., 

Dec.  8,  . 

Dear  Mother  Roberts: 

You  don't  know  how  glad  I  was  to  receive  your 
kind  and  loving  letter.  Yes,  I  can  praise  God  this 
very  day  for  his  loving-kindness  and  tender  mercy. 
Yesterday  I  gave  a  testimony  to  some  poor  souls 
at  San  Quentin,  and  you  don't  know  how  much  good 
it  did  them.  Three  gave  their  hearts  to  God.  All 
that  I  am  praying  for  now  is  that  Jesus  may  make 
me  a  shining  light  for  souls  that  know  him  not. 
There  was  one  prisoner  that  knew  me  in  my  life  of 
sin,  and  he  told  the  others  that  I  looked  ten  years 
younger.  .  .  . 

Oh,  may  God  forbid  that  it  may  ever  be  so 
again;  for  when  I  think  how  he  has  snatched  me 
out  from  the  pit  of  hell,  oh,  how  I  love  my  Jesus 
more  and  more,  dear  Mama  Roberts!  .  .  . 

What  God  has  done  for  me,  surely  he  can  do 
for  others.  /  only  wish  I  could  turn  this  wicked 
world  upside  down  and  make  it  new  again.  In  one 
of  the  Psalms  I  read,  "My  soul  hath  kept  thy  tes- 
timonies, and  I  love  them  exceedingly."  May  it 
always  be  so. 

Mama  Roberts,  I  will  soon  get  a  letter  from 
Lucy.  You  don't  know  how  I  love  to  get  her  let- 
ters. I  assure  you  that  when  I  get  blue  I  take 
and  read  one  or  two  lines  that  her  gentle  hand 
has  written,  and  it  does  me  good. 

Now,  tomorrow  night,  you  know,  is  prayer-meet- 
ing night,  and  I  know  you  won't  forget  me.  Pray 
that  I  may,  by  the  grace  of  God,  do  some  poor 


458  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

soul  good  by  telling  them  of  the  life  that  I  led  for 
twenty  and  one  years  [drink,  etc.]   .  .  . 

I  will  close  with  love  from  one  that  dearly  loves 
you  and  who  will  always  pray  for  you.  I  remain 
as  ever.  Yours  in  Christ, 

E K . 

P.  S.  My  husband  wishes  to  be  remembered 
to  you.  I  hope  that  you  will  come  to  see  me  soon. 
Write  soon. 

FROM    A    THZBTEEN-TIiAB-OX^D    SINXrED-AGAnirBT 
CBXIiD. 

Dear  Mama  Roberts: 

I  am  learning  about  Jesus  day  by  day.  I  hope 
you  are  well  and  strong. 

The  Lord  will  help  you  .  .  . 
My  little  chick  is   growing,  and   its   mother   is 
showing  her  little  chick  to  eat.   .   .   . 

Pray  for  me.     I  am  praying  for  you,  too. 
From  your  dear, 

F .  E . 

FBOM  oxri:  ixr  a  house  of  sin. 

M— ,  Cal. 
Mrs.  Florence  Roberts: 

Your  very  kind  letter  received  yesterday  and  am 
glad  that  your  meeting  at  the  church  was  success- 
ful. I  also  hope  ere  this  that  you  have  arrived 
safely  in  — • —  and  that  your  trip  was  pleasant. 

Mrs.  Roberts,  briefly  concerning  myself;  words 
can  not  express  my  appreciation  of  the  interest  you 
are  taking  in  me,  and  I  hope  I  may  be  spared  to 
prove  to  you  that  your  efforts  have  not  been  in 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  459 

vain.  I  hope  the  day  may  not  be  far  distant  when 
I  may  make  myself  worthy  of  your  friendship  and 
interest — -and  hoping  that  you  may  think  of  what- 
ever goodness  I  may  possess,  and  not  of  what  my 
life  has  been,  I  beg  to  remain, 

Sincerely  yours, 

J—  W . 

The  foregoing  letter  was  written  in  a  beautiful 
hand. 


FBOM  A  VEBT  TOTTNG  KOTEEB. 

N— ,  Cal. 
My  dear  Mama  Roberts: 

I  will  now  sit  down  to  answer  your  most  dear  and 
welcome  letter  of  so  long  ago,  which  has  not  been  an- 
swered; but  do  not  think  I  have  forgotten  you. 
You  have  been  so  kind  and  good  to  me  that  I  will 
ever  love  you  and  not  forget  you.  .  .  .  The  baby 
was  pretty  sick  before  the  4th  of  July,  but  he 
is  well  and  fat  now.  I  feed  him  on  Mellin's  food.  .  . . 

My  stepfather  says  that  the  day  I  speak  to  the 
baby's  father  I  will  lose  the  home  I  have.  He  (the 
baby's  father)  does  not  give  me  five  cents.  All 
that  the  baby  has  I  work  good  and  hard  to  get. 
What  he  and  I  need,  I  earn  honestly.  I  work 
whenever  I  have  the  opportunity,  as  my  step- 
father is  the  only  one  we  can  depend  upon  [she 
was  only  sixteen  years  old],  and  we  are  four  boys 
and  three  girls,  grandma,  mama,  the  baby,  and 
himself;  so  it  is  hard  for  him,  and  I  haven't  the 
heart  to  ask  them  for  anything,  no  matter  how 
bad  I  need  it.     I  take  in  washing  from  the  board- 


460  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

ers  at  the  two  hotels,  also  sewing  and  ironing,  or 
go  out  to  do  housework  whenever  I  can. 

I  must  close,  as  I  must  help  mama  to  get  the 
supper.     With  love  and  regards  to  Mama  Roberts 
from  all.  ...  I  don't  forget  my  Bible  and  verse. 
Your  loving, 

L K . 

PBOaC    A    OBATEFUI^    MOTHER. 

S ,  July  28. 

Mrs.  Florence  Roberts. 

My  dear  Madam: 

My  darling  daughter  E — - —  has  been  home  for 
a  short  time  and  has  told  me  the  kind  interest 
you  have  taken  in  her  welfare. 

I  wish  to  say  for  your  pleasure   (and  certainly 

mine)   that  E ■  is  very  much  in  earnest  over 

your  advice.  I  sincerely  believe  it  will  take  only 
a  little  more  persuasion  on  your  part  to  fully  con- 
vince her  to  give  up  her  worldly  ways  and  do  as 
you  wish  her.  Oh,  how  happy  I  shall  be!  My 
heart  is  breaking  for  my  dear,  sweet  girl.  She  is 
bright  and  accomplished.  She  could  help  you  so 
much  in  your  noble  work,  which  we  both  know 
would  greatly  help  her.  God  is  surely  working  in 
her  heart.  She  says,  "Mama,  I  can't  get  Mrs. 
Roberts  out  of  my  mind.  All  the  time  I  was  away 
[This  girl  used  to  leave  home  on  periodical  ca- 
rousals], I  could  but  think  of  her,  and  if  it  hadn't 
been  Mrs.  R — —  talked  so  good  to  me,  I  would 
have  had  a  big  old  time."  Now,  my  dear  friend,  do 
you  not  think  that  encouraging.''  I  shall  pray  every 
moment  for  your  success.  God  surely  will  help 
us  to  save  my  darling  child.*^ 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  461 

My  dear  Mrs.  Roberts,  please  call  and  see  me 

when  you  return  to  S '.    So  much  I  would  like 

to  say. 

With  my  earnest  prayer  for  your  success, 
I  am  yours  most  sincerely, 

C— ^-  B . 

rBOX    A    OBATErmb    FATHES. 


K ,  Cal. 

Mrs.  Florence  Roberts: 

May  God  forever  bless  you  and  reward  you, 
dear  madam,  for  being  good  to  my  poor  boy.  The 
board  of  prison  directors  have  granted  his  parole, 
and  if  he  behaves  himself  for  two  years,  then  he 
can  apply  to  the  governor  for  his  pardon.  I  hope 
it  will  soon  come  my  way  to  show  you  how  much 
I  appreciate  how  hard  you  worked  to  get  his  pa- 
role. God  knows  I  do  .  .  .  Please  forgive  my  poor 
effort  to  thank  you.  I  can  find  no  words,  but  God 
forever  bless  you,  and  I'm  sure  he  will. 

Yours  most  gratefully, 

G F . 

The  following  is  a  reply  to  an  anonymous  let- 
ter traducing  one  who  was  undergoing  a  laborious 
effort  to  make  good.  I  hope  that  this  may  teach 
its  own  lesson  to  all  who  would  push  the  strug- 
gling ones  still   further  down. 

To ^. 

Dear  Sir: 

Kindly  permit  me  space  to  answer  an  anonymous 
letter  which  came  to  me  last  Sunday  concerning  a 


462  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

young  man  in  whom  I  am  deeply  interested,  hav- 
ing been  instrumental  in  procuring  his  parole  re- 
cently, and  who  is  in  every  way  traduced  to  me  by 
the  writer,  who  styles  himself  or  herself  a  Chris- 
tian and  signs  the  letter,  "A  friend  to  all." 

Knowing  this  young  man  as  I  do,  through  of- 
ficials, the  sheriff  of  the  county,  and  others  in  a 
position  to  make  truthful  statements  concerning 
him;  knowing  of  the  terrib'e  struggle  he  is  endur- 
ing to  live  down  an  act  of  the  past  for  which  he 
was  more  to  be  pitied  than  blamed ;  knowing  from 
the  lips  of  those  with  whom  he  spent  his  youthful 
days  that  prior  to  his  incarceration  in  San  Quen- 
tin  he  had  a  character  unsullied,  I  ask,  How  can 
any  one  claiming  to  be  a  Christian,  thus  hinder 
the  cause  of  Christ  b)'^  making  unsubstantiated 
charges?  'Woe  to  you  who  offend  one  of  these 
little  ones !'  saith  our  Lord,  who  came,  not  to  save 
the  righteous,  but  to  call  sinners  to  repentance. 

My  varied  experience  proves  that  many  are  hin- 
dered from  coming  into  the  fold  by  just  such  re- 
flections on  the  Master,  as  indicated  in  this  let- 
ter. 

Now  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  meet  the  writer 
of  the  aforesaid  letter  in  the  presence  of  two  or 
more  witnesses,  in  order  that  he  (or  she)  may  be 
given  a  chance  to  substantiate  his  statements ;  and 
until  this  is  done,  I  shall  continue  to  consider 
said  letter  the  work  of  a  coward  instead  of  a 
"friend  to  all." 

Most  respectfully  yours, 

(Mrs.)  Florence  Roberts. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  463 

From  Warden  W.  H.  Reilly, 

State  Prison  at  Folsom,  Cal., 
Sept.   18,  1911. 
Mrs.  Florence  Roberts, 

Gospel  Trumpet  Publishing  Co., 
Anderson,  Indiana. 
Dear  Madam: 

Upon  my  return  from  a  little  needed  rest,  I 
found  your  letter  of  the  7th  inst.,  which  surely 
afforded  me  pleasure. 

We  are  very  glad  indeed  that  you  are  so  pleas- 
antly circumstanced,  and  wish  you  sincerely  all 
manner  of  success  in  your  good  work. 

Joe is  here  yet,  and  he  was  much  pleased 

when  I  handed  him  your  card.  There  are  many 
fine  points  about  the  boy,  and  he  surely  appreci- 
ates your  kindness. 

Mrs.  Reilly  and  the  children  are  well  and  join 
me  in  kind  remembrance. 

Very  respectfully, 

W.  H.  Reilly. 

Joe  is  the  young  man  who  was  sentenced  for 
niney-nine  years  on  circumstantial  evidence,  and 
whose  story  is  in  this  book. 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  WITH  THE  OUTCAST.  465 

CHAPTER  L. 
CONCLUSION. 

One  morning  a  little  lad  was  observed  by  his 
mother  to  be  making  great  efforts  to  stretch  his 
chubby  limbs  to  such  an  extent  as  to  place  his  feet 
in  every  one  of  his  father's  tracks. 

"What  are  you  trying  to  do.  Sonny.''  Come  into 
the  house  quick,  or  you'll  catch  cold,"  called  the 
anxious  mother. 

"No,  no.  Mama;  I  don't  want  to;  I  want  to 
follow  papa.  I'm  trying  to  walk  in  his  footsteps," 
replied  the  innocent  child. 

Does  this  cause  the  smoking,  drinking,  swear- 
ing, card-playing,  Godless  parents  to  halt  and  re- 
flect.'' God  knows;  we  hope  so.  Does  this  fill 
the  mother  of  cherished,  idolized  little  ones  with 
remorse  of  conscience.^  Does  it  occasion  her  to 
take  a  retrospective  view  of  the  time  when,  dur- 
ing courtship  days,  she  was  warned  and  advised 
of  the  indiscreet  marriage  she  was  about  to  make, 
because  of  her  sweetheart's  well-known  dissolute 
propensities.^  Yet  all  those  warnings  and  plead- 
ings were  in  vain. 

The  little  innocent  ones  are  trying  to  walk  in 
their  parents'  footsteps.  Myriads  of  mothers  are 
weeping  and  wishing  they  had  been  firmer;  that 
they  had  not  so  readily  yielded  to  the  ardent  per- 


466  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

suasions  to  marry,  but  had  waited  until  such  times 

as  true  reformation,  repentance,  and  turning  to  the 

God  they  were  then  serving  had  taken  place  in 

their  sweethearts'  lives. 

Of  all  sad  words  of  tongue  or  pen, 

The  saddest  are  these — It  might  have  been. 

Poor,  poor  remorseful,  unhappy  wife  and  mother, 
my  heart  aches  for  you  as  you  realize  the  sowing 
and  weep  over  the  prospective  reaping.  Long 
since  you  have  grown  cold  in  your  Christian  ex- 
perience. You  realize  it  today  as  never  before. 
You  wonder  what  you  are  going  to  do  about  it? 
The  older  children  have  outgrown  your  jurisdic- 
tion. Mary  is  running  with  company  you  do  not 
approve  of,  to  balls,  theaters,  and  other  demoral- 
izing places;  wanting  finery  you  are  not  able  to 
afford,  although  you  do  your  best.  You  can't  get 
any  help  from  her;  for,  when  not  otherwise  en- 
gaged, she  is  absorbed  in  novel-reading.  It  does 
no  good  to  complain  to  her  father;  in  fact,  that 
seems  only  to  make  a  bad  matter  worse.  You 
haven't  an  atom  of  her  confidence.  When  she  was 
younger,  you  never  really  encouraged  her  to  give 
it,  and  now,  though  but  fifteen,  she  laughs  at  you 
because  she  thinks  that  she  knows  so  much  and 
that  you  know  so  little.  All  her  confidence  is  given 
to  those  you  do  not  approve  of,  and  you  are  dread- 
ing the  outcome,  the  inevitable. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  467 

Then  there's  thirteen-year-old  Tom.  While 
you  sat  up  mending  his  torn  coat  the  other  night 
after  he  had  gone  to  bed,  you  found  some  to- 
bacco and  cigarette  paper  in  his  pocket.  When  you 
quietly  asked  him  next  morning  what  it  meant, 
he  only  laughed  and  replied,  "That's  nothing.  All 
us  kids  smoke  nowadays.  It  won't  hurt  us  any 
more  than  it  will  father.  He  smokes."  You  are 
wondering  how  you  can  find  out  whether  he  has 
contracted  any  more  of  his  father's  bad  habits, 
and  while  searching  his  room,  you  come  across 
a  dirty  pack  of  playing-cards  hidden  in  the  back 
part  of  one  of  the  bureau  drawers. 

Awful  vision  of  the  future  of  these  two  older 
children  is  yours  as  you  ponder  what  you  can  do 
to  subvert  the  growing  evil  in  your  home.  You 
indulge  much  in  vain  regrets — 'vain,  indeed,  so  far 
as  you  are  concerned.  But  listen,  mother — you 
who  would  lay  down  your  life  to  spare  Mary 
from  disgrace  and  eventually  an  ignomimous 
death ;  you  who  love  Tom  so  dearly  you  would  give 
all  the  world  were  it  yours  to  make  him  under- 
stand that  the  habits  he  is  contracting  lead  only 
to  impaired  health  and  disgrace,  ofttimes  to  im- 
prisonment, sometimes  to  the  scaffold.  It  is  not  too 
late  yet,  distressed  mother,  particularly  with  the  two 
younger  children,  who  are  just  beginning  to  ask 
leading  questions.  These  you  must,  you  must  answer, 


468  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

so  that  your  little  son  and  daughter  will  find  no 
need  of  inquiring  of  other  children  concerning  the 
beautiful  plan  of  life,  which  should  never  be  im- 
parted to  them  by  any  other  than  you  yourself. 
"What  must  I  do?  What  can  I  do?"  you  ask. 
Listen.     I'm  going  to  tell  you. 

Lose  no  time.  Do  as  I  did.  Go  to  God,  in  your 
secret  closet.  Lay  all  your  troubles  and  problems 
at  his  feet.  Throw  yourself  on  his  loving  mercy. 
Confess  your  backsliding,  your  sins,  your  errors, 
your  weaknesses,  everything — 'everything  that  is 
causing  you,  your  husband,  and  your  children  to 
be  held  by  the  enemy  of  souls,  and  that  will  soon 
bring  more  misery  into  your  life  and  their  lives, 
unless  God  undertakes  for  you  and  them.  Then, 
cost  what  it  mill,  take  the  humble  place  before 
God  and  them.  Tell  them  of  your  love  for  them; 
of  the  mistakes  you  have  made,  through  false  mod- 
esty, in  not  gaining  their  companionship,  their 
confidence.  Ask  them  to  help  you  in  the  future 
by  trusting  you  more  than  they  do  any  other 
friend  or  acquaintance.  Tell  them  how  much  you 
once  loved  God,  and  that  now,  after  wandering  far 
away,  you  have  returned  to  him.  Go  with  them  to 
Sunday-school  and  to  other  religious  services;  set 
up,  even  in  the  face  of  all  opposition,  the  family 
altar;  ask  a  blessing  at  table;  have  an  open  Bible 
alxvays. 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  469 

The  outcome.  Probably  at  first,  and  maybe  for 
some  time  to  come,  rebellion,  even  desertion,  even 
more  sin  to  battle  with;  more  heartaches,  more 
tears,  more  struggles  than  ever  heretofore.  But 
"be  thou  faithful."  Thy  loyalty,  thine  efforts, 
shall  be  rewarded.     Watch,  wait,  pray  always. 

There  is  only  one  reason  to  be  given  why  the 
children  go  wrong — Godless  homes.  "Train  up  a 
child  in  the  way  he  should  go;  and  when  he  is 
old,  he  will  not  depart  from  it."     Prov.  22:6. 

One  day  a  clergyman  handed  me  two  very  start- 
ling verses,  the  characters  of  which  were  all  too 
true.  I  remarked  that  some  day,  God  willing,  I 
would  add  to  the  verses  and  set  them  to  music. 
I  have  done  so,  and  in  His  name,  I  herewith  give 
them,  under  the  awful  title: 

WASmSB,    BECBUITS    FOB    HXSI^I^. 

Johnson   the   drunkard    Is    dying-    today, 

With  traces  of  sin  on  his  face; 
He  will  be  missed  at  the  bar,  at  the  play. 

Wanted,   a    boy   for   his    place. 

Ruby,    poor  Ruby   is   passing  away, 

A  victim   of   vice  and   disgrace. 
Wanted,   recruits   for   the   houses   of   shame, 

Some  mother's   girl   for  her   place. 

Simons,  a  gambler,   was  killed  in  a  flgrht; 

He   died   without    pardon   or   grace. 
Wanted,  to  train  for  his  burden  and  blight. 

Somebody's   boy    for   his    place. 


470  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

Wanted  for  dance-halls,  for  brothels,  for  bars. 
Girls   attractive  of  form   and  of  face, 

Girls  to  decoy  and  boys  to  destroy; 
Have  you  a  child  for  the  place? 

"Wanted,"  pleads  Satan,   "for  service  of  mine, 

Some  one  to  live  without   grace. 
Some  one  to  die  without  pardon  divine; 

Please  train  me  your  child  for  the  place." 

That  eminent  writer,  Mrs.  Ella  Wheeler  Wil- 
cox, says: 

"Every  person  on  earth  is  making  some  sort  of 
a  cell  in  his  or  her  brain  every  waking  moment 
of  the  day  or  night. 

"Thoughts  are  things.  Thought  is  energy. 
Thought  is  a  creative  power.  That  is  why  it  is 
so  imjDortant  to  direct  the  minds  of  human  beings 
to  good,  kind,  helpful  thoughts.  [Let  me  add,  to 
direct  them,  from  the  very  commencement,  to  the 
great,  loving  God  and  his  Son,  our  Savior.] 

"Parentage  is  the  oldest  profession  of  men  and 
women  in  the  world,  but  there  are  the  smallest 
number  of  prize-winners  in  that  profession  of  any 
in  the  world.  [Why?  because  of  a  neglected,  in- 
sulted God.] 

"Real,  good  motherhood  must  include  the  uni- 
versal motherhood.  It  must  make  a  woman  love 
her  child  so  unselfishly  that  she  is  willing  it  should 
suffer  while  learning  its  lessons  of  kindness, 
thoughtfulness,  and  protection,  rather  than  to  en- 


WITH    THE    OUTCAST.  471 

joy  itself  while  taking  away  the  joys,  the  privi- 
leges, or  the  rights  of  other  creatures,  human  or 
animal." 

The  warden  of  a  certain  State  prison,  who  is  a 
student  of  human  nature,  said  to  some  visitors  one 
day,  "If  a  child  is  properly  educated  to  the  age 
of  ten,  no  matter  what  its  inheritance,  it  never 
becomes  a  criminal."  His  sentence  includes  all 
the  needed  preventatives  of  crime. 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  when  asked,  "W2ien 
should  a  child's  education  begin?"  promptly  re- 
plied, "Two  hundred  years  before  it  is  born." 

There  would  be  little  or  no  need  of  the  rescue 
missionaries  had  parents  and  guardians  but  heeded 
these  words  in  Deut.  6:  5-7:  "Hear,  O  Israel:  The 
Lord  our  God  is  one  Lord:  and  thou  shalt  love 
the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all 
thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  might.  And  these  words, 
which  I  command  thee  this  day,  shall  be  in  thy 
heart:  and  thou  shalt  teach  them  diligently  unto 
thy  children,  and  shalt  talk  of  them  when  thou  sit- 
test  in  thine  house,  and  when  thou  walkest  by  the 
way,  and  when  thou  liest  down,  and  when  thou 
risest  up.  And  thou  shalt  bind  them  for  a  sign 
upon  thine  hand,  and  they  shall  be  as  frontlets  be- 
tween thine  eyes,  and  thou  shalt  write  them  upon 
the  posts  of  thine  houses,  and  on  thy  gates."  "O 
that  there  were  such  an  heart  in  them,  that  they 


472  FIFTEEN    YEARS 

would  fear  me,  and  keep  all  my  commandments 
always,  that  it  might  be  well  with  them,  and  with 
their  children  forever !"     Deut.  5 :  29. 

It  is  very,  very  blessed  to  undertake  the  part 
of  a  good  Samaritan.  It  is  far  more  blessed  so 
to  know  and  serve  the  Lord,  that  our  present  and 
future  progeny,  instead  of  sharing  a  destiny  simi- 
lar to  many  of  these  depicted  between  these  pages, 
may,  under  any  and  all  circumstances,  enjoy  the 
everlasting  smile  of  His  countenance,  that  peace 
and  joy  in  their  souls  which  this  world  can  never 
give,  neither  take  away. 

Lord,  we  pray  thee,  "so  teach  us  to  number  our 
days,  that  we  may  apply  our  hearts  unto  wis- 
dom."    Psa.   90: 12. 

The  End. 


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